GORA.  I know not—­and I care no whit to know! 
             Let her go forth alone to her sure doom. 
             Why dost thou tarry?  Slay me!  For I have
             No wish to live!

KING.  We’ll speak of that anon;
             But first I’ll have thy answer!

JASON (behind the scenes).

Where’s Medea? 
Bring her before my face!  Medea!

[He enters suddenly with drawn sword.]

Nay,
They told me she was caught!  Where is she, then?

(To GORA.)

Ha!  Thou here?  Where’s thy mistress?

GORA.  Fled away!

JASON.  Hath she the children?

GORA.  Nay!

JASON.  Then they are—­

GORA.  Dead! 
             Yea, dead! thou smooth-tongued traitor, dead, I say! 
             She sought to put them where thine eyes could never
             Take joy in them again; but, knowing well
             No spot on earth so sacred was but thou
             To find them wouldst break in, she hid them, safe
             Forever, in the grave!  Ay, stand aghast,
             And stare upon the pavement!  Thou canst never
             Recall thy babes to life!  They’re gone for aye! 
             And, for their sake, I’m glad!  No, I am not,
             For their sake—­but because thou dost despair,
             That, smooth-tongued traitor, glads my heart indeed! 
             Was it not thou that drove her to this crime,
             And thou, false King, with thine hypocrisy? 
             She was a noble creature-but ye drew
             Your nets of shameful treachery too close
             About her, till, in wild despair, cut off
             From all escape else, she o’erleaped your snares,
             And made thy crown, the kingly ornament
             Of royal heads, to be the awful tool
             Of her unnatural crime!  Ay, wring your hands,
             But wring them for your own most grievous fate!

(Turning to the KING.)

Why sought thy child another woman’s bed?

(Turning to JASON.)

Why must thou steal her, bring her here to Greece,
If thou didst never love her?  If thou didst
Right truly love her, why, then, thrust her forth? 
Though others cry her murderess, yea, though I
Myself must name her so, yet none the less
Ye have but met your just deserts!—­For me,
I have no wish to live another day! 
Two of my babes are dead, the third I needs
Must hate forever!  Take me, lead me hence
And slay me, if ye will!  Fair hopes I have
At last, of justice in that other world,
Now I have seen Heaven’s vengeance on you hurled!

[She is led away by some of the KING’s attendants.]

(Pause.)