MEDEA.  And with him the king, my bitter foe,
             Whose counsel hath led my lord astray. 
             Him must I flee, for I cannot tame
             My hatred.

[She goes swiftly toward the palace.]

But if lord Jason wish
To speak with me, then bid him come in,
To my side in the innermost chambers—­there
I would parley with him, not here
By the side of the man who is my foe. 
They come.  Away!

[She disappears into the palace.]

GORA.  Lo, she is gone! 
             And I am left to deal with the man
             Who is killing my child, who hath brought it to pass
             That I lay my head on a foreign soil,
             And must hide my tears of bitter woe,
             Lest I see a smile on the lips of these strangers here.

The KING and JASON enter.

KING.  Why hath thy mistress fled?  ’Twill serve her not

GORA.  Fled?  Nay, she went, because she hates thy face

KING.  Summon her forth!

GORA.  She will not come.

KING.  She shall!

GORA.  Then go thou in thyself and call her forth,
             If thou dost dare.

KING (angrily).

Where am I, then, and who,
That this mad woman dares to spite me thus? 
The servant mirrors forth the mistress’ soul—­
Servant and mistress mirror forth that land
Of darkness that begat them!  Once again
I tell thee, call her forth!

GORA (pointing to Jason).

There stands the man
That she would speak with.  Let him go within—­
If he hath courage for it.

JASON.  Get thee gone,
             Old witch, whom I have hated from the first! 
             Tell her, who is so like thee, she must come.

GORA.  Ah, if she were like me, thou wouldst not speak
             In such imperious wise!  I promise thee
             That she shall know of it, and to thy dole!

JASON.  I would have speech with her.

GORA.  Go in!

JASON.  Not I! 
             ’Tis she that shall come forth.  Go thou within
             And tell her so!

GORA.  Well, well, I go, if but
             To rid me of the sight of you, my lords;
             Ay, and I’ll bear your summons, but I know
             Full well she will not come, for she is weak
             And feels her sickness all too grievously.

[She goes into the palace.]

KING.  Not one day longer will I suffer her
             To stay in Corinth.  This old dame but now
             Gave utterance to the dark and fell designs
             On which yon woman secretly doth brood. 
             Methinks her presence is a constant threat. 
             Thy doubts, I hope, are laid to rest at last?