nd lie there,
A ghastly corpse?

GORA. 'Twere a sweet revenge!

MEDEA. Or if, at the bridal-chamber's door,
I lay her dead in her blood,
Beside her the children--Jason's children--dead?

GORA. But thyself such revenge would hurt, and not him.

MEDEA. Ah, I would that he loved me still,
That I might slay myself, and make him groan!
But what of that maid, so false, so pure?

GORA. Ha! There thou strikest nearer to the mark!

MEDEA. Peace, peace! Back, whence ye came, ye evil thoughts!
Back into silence, into darkest night!

[_She covers her face with her veil._]

GORA. Those heroes all, who made with him
The wanton Argo-voyage hence,
The gods above have recompensed
With just requital, swift revenge.
Death and disgrace have seized them all
Save one--how long shall he go free?
Each day I listen greedily,
And joy to hear how they have died,
How fell these glorious sons of Greece,
The robber-band that fought their way
Back from far Colchis. Thracian maids
Rent limb from limb sweet Orpheus' frame;
And Hylas found a watery grave;
Pirithoues and Theseus pierced
Even to Hades' darksome realm
To rob that mighty lord of shades
Of his radiant spouse, Persephone;
But then he seized, and holds them there
For aye in chains and endless night.

MEDEA (_swiftly snatching her veil from before her face_).

Because they came to steal his wife?
Good! Good! 'Twas Jason's crime, nay, less!

GORA. Great Heracles forsook his wife,
For he was snared by other charms,
And in revenge she sent to him
A linen tunic, which he took
And clad himself therewith--and sank
To earth in hideous agonies;
For she had smeared it secretly
With poison and swift death. He sank
To earth, and Oeta's wooded heights
Were witness how he died in flames!

MEDEA. She wove it, then, that tunic dire
That slew him?

GORA. Ay, herself.

MEDEA. Herself!

GORA. Althea 'twas--his mother--smote
The mighty