HERALD.  The first time, yes.  But when, unknown to thee,
             They came again, she companied them back,
             Only demanding, if she healed the king,
             The Golden Fleece in payment for her aid;
             It was a hateful thing to her, she said;
             And boded evil.  And those foolish maids,
             All joyful, promised.  So she came with them
             To the king’s chamber, where he lay asleep. 
             Straightway she muttered strange and secret words
             Above him, and his sleep grew ever deep
             And deeper.  Next, to let the bad blood out,
             She bade them ope his veins.  And even this
             They did, whereat his panting breath grew still
             And tranquil; then the gaping wounds were bound,
             And those sad maids were glad to think him healed. 
             Forth went Medea then, as she hath said;
             His daughters, too, departed, for he slept. 
             But, on a sudden, came a fearful cry
             From out his chamber!  Swift his daughters sped
             To aid him, and—­oh, ghastly, horrible!—­
             There on the pavement lay the aged king,
             His body twisted in a hideous knot,
             The cloths that bound his veins all torn away
             From off his gaping wounds, whence, in a black
             And sluggish stream, his blood came welling forth. 
             He lay beside the altar, where the Fleece
             For long was wont to hang—­and that was gone! 
             But, in that selfsame hour, thy wife was seen,
             The golden gaud upon her shoulder flung,
             Swift hasting through the night.

MEDEA (dully, staring straight before her).

’Twas my reward!—­
I shudder still, when’er I think upon
The old man’s furious rage!

HERALD.  Now, that no longer
             Such horrors bide here, poisoning this land
             With their destructive breath, I here proclaim
             The solemn doom of utter banishment
             On Jason, the Thessalian, Aeson’s son,
             Spouse of a wicked witch-wife, and himself
             An arrant villain; and I drive him forth
             From out this land of Greece, wherein the gods
             Are wont to walk with men; to exile hence,
             To flight and wandering I drive him forth,
             And with him, this, his wife, ay, and his babes,
             The offspring of his marriage-bed.  Henceforth
             No rood of this, his fatherland, be his,
             No share in her protection or her rights!

[He raises his hand and three times makes solemn proclamation, turning to different quarters.]

Banished are Jason and Medea! 
Medea and Jason are banished! 
Banished are Jason and Medea!