Then Medea made answer, “Now am I altogether undone.  But tell me, my lord, why dost thou drive me out of thy land?”

“Because I fear thee, lest thou should do some harm beyond all remedy to me and to my house.  For I know that thou art wise, and hast knowledge of many curious arts; and besides, I hear that thou hast threatened grievous hurt against all that are concerned with this new marriage.”

But Medea answered, “O my lord, this report of craft and wisdom hath wrought me harm not this day only, but many times!  Truly it is not well that a man should teach his children to be wise, for they gain thereby no profit, but hatred only.  But as for me, my lord, my wisdom is but a small thing; nor is there cause why thou shouldest fear me.  For who am I that I should transgress against a king?  Nor indeed hast thou done me wrong.  My husband, indeed, I hate; but thou hast given thy daughter as it pleased thee.  The Gods grant that it may be well with thee and thine!  Only suffer me to dwell in this land.”

But the King would not, though she entreated him with many words.  Only at the last he yielded this to her, that she might abide for one day and contrive some refuge for her children; “but,” he said, “if thou tarry after this, thou and thy children, thou shalt surely die.”

Then he went his way, and Medea said to the women that stood by, “That at least is well; be ye sure that there is evil to come for the bridegroom and the bride in this new marriage, and for their kin.  Think ye that I had flattered this man but that I thought to gain somewhat thereby?  Surety I had not touched his hand, no, nor spoken to him.  And now—­fool that he is—­he hath given me this day, and when he might have driven me from the land, he suffereth me to tarry.  Verily he shall die for it, he and his daughter and this new bridegroom.  But how shall I contrive it?  Shall I put fire to the dwelling of the bride, or make my way by stealth into her chamber and slay her?  Yet if I be found so doing, I shall perish, and my enemies will laugh me to scorn.  Nay, let me work by poison, as is my wont.  Well, and if they die, what then?  What city will receive me? what friend shall give me protection?  I know not.  I will tarry awhile, and if some help appear, I will work my end with guile; but if not, I will take my sword and slay them that I hate, though I die.  For by Hecate, whom I reverence most of all the Gods, no man shall vex my heart and prosper.  Therefore, Medea, fear not; use all thy counsel and craft.  Shall the race of Sisyphus, shall Jason, laugh thee to scorn that art of the race of the Sun?”