JASON.  No command
             At least I gave.

MEDEA.  Ne’er sought to learn if I
             Had heart and courage for the deed?

JASON.  Thou know’st
             How, in the first mad burst of rage and hate,
             A man speaks many hot, impetuous threats
             Which calm reflection never would fulfil.

MEDEA.  Once thou didst blame thyself for that mad deed;
             Now thou hast found a victim who can bear
             The guilt in place of thee!

JASON.  ’Tis not the thought
             Of such a deed that merits punishment;
             It is the deed itself.

MEDEA (quickly).

I did it not!

JASON.  Who, then, is guilty?

MEDEA.  Not myself, at least! 
             Listen, my husband, and be thou the first
             To do me justice. 
             As I stood at the chamber door, to enter
             And steal away the Fleece,
             The king lay there on his couch;
             Sudden I heard a cry!  I turned,
             And lo!  I saw the aged king
             Leap from his couch with frightful shrieks,
             Twisting and writhing; and he cried,
             “Com’st thou, O brother, to take revenge,
             Revenge on me?  Ha!  Thou shalt die
             Again, and yet again!” And straight
             He sprang at me, to grip me fast,
             For in my hands I held the Fleece. 
             I shook with fear, and cried aloud
             For help to those dark gods I know;
             The Fleece before me like a shield
             I held.  His face was twisted swift
             To maniac grins, and leered at me! 
             Then, with a shriek, he madly tore
             At the clothes that bound his aged veins;
             They rent; the blood gushed forth in streams,
             And, even as I looked, aghast
             And full of horror, there he lay,
             The king, at my very feet, all bathed
             In his own blood-lay cold and dead!

JASON.  And thou canst stand and tell me such a tale,
             Thou hateful witchwife?  Get thee gone from me! 
             Away!  I shudder at thee!  Would that I
             Had ne’er beheld thy face!

MEDEA.  Thou knewest well
             That I was skilled in witchcraft, from that day
             When first thou saw’st me at my magic arts,
             And still didst yearn and long to call me thine!

JASON.  I was a youth then, and an arrant fool! 
             What boys are pleased with, men oft cast away.