smite them all!--
As for thy lord, the Colchian princess' spouse,
Him, too, they hate, for his sake, and for thine.
Did not his uncle drive him from his palace?
Was he not banished from his fatherland
What time that uncle perished, none knows how?
Home hath he none, nor resting-place, nor where
To lay his head. What canst thou hope from him?

MEDEA. I am his wife!

GORA. And hop'st--?

MEDEA. To follow him
In need and unto death.

GORA. Ay, need and death!
AEtes' daughter in a beggar's hut!

MEDEA. Let us pray Heaven for a simple heart;
So shall our humble lot be easier borne.

GORA. Ha!--And thy husband--?

MEDEA. Day breaks. Let us go.

GORA. Nay, thou shalt not escape my questioning!--One
comfort still is left me in my grief,
And only one: our wretched plight shows clear
That gods still rule in Heaven, and mete out
To guilty men requital, late or soon.
Weep for thy bitter lot; I'll comfort thee.
Only presume not rashly to deny
The gods are just, because thou dost deny
This punishment they send, and all this woe.--
To cure an evil, we must see it clear.
Thy husband--tell me--is he still the same?

MEDEA. What should he be?

GORA. O, toy not so with words!
Is he the same impetuous lover still
Who wooed thee once; who braved a hundred swords
To win thee; who, upon that weary voyage,
Laughed at thy fears and kissed away thy grief,
Poor maid, when thou wouldst neither eat nor drink,
But only pray to die? Ay, all too soon
He won thee with his passionate, stormy love.
Is he thy lover still?--I see thee tremble.
Ay, thou hast need; thou knowest he loves thee not,
But shudders at thee, dreads thee, flees thee, _hates_ thee!
And as thou didst betray thy fatherland,
So shalt thou be betrayed--and by thy lover.
Deep in the earth the symbols of thy crime
Lie buried;--but the crime thou canst not hide.

MEDEA. Be silent!

GORA. Never!

MEDEA (_grasping her fiercely by the arm _).

S