NIKIAS. I, in this thing, do hold our Jason wise; Kreon is mighty; Glaukê very fair. ÆGEUS. An ’twere for that--the Colchian’s fair enough. NIKIAS. I like not your swart skins and purple hair; Your black, fierce eyes where the brows meet across. By all the gods! when yonder Colchian Fixes me with her strange and sudden gaze, Each hair upon my body stands erect! Zeus, ’tis a very tiger, and as mute! ÆGEUS. ’Tis certain that the woman’s something strange. NIKIAS. Gods, spare me your strange women, so say I. Give me gold hair, lithe limbs and gracious smiles, And spare the strangeness. ÆGEUS. I do marvel much How she will bear the tidings. NIKIAS. Lo, behold! Here comes our Jason striding ’thwart the streets. Gods! what a gracious presence! ÆGEUS. I perceive The Colchian on the threshold. By her looks, Our idle talk has reached her listening ears. [_Enter_ JASON. MEDEA _reappears on the threshold_.] NIKIAS. Let’s draw aside and mark them; lo, they meet. [_The two citizens withdraw, unperceived, to a further corner of the stage._] MEDEA. ’Tis false, ’tis false. O Jason, they speak false! JASON. Your looks are wild, Medea; you bring shame Upon this house, that stand with hair unbound Beyond the threshold. Get you in the house. MEDEA. But not till you have answered me this thing. JASON. What is this thing that you would know of me? MEDEA. O I have heard strange rumours--horrible! JASON. Oft lies the horror of a tale in the ear Of him that hears it. What is ’t you have heard? MEDEA. Almost, for fear, I dare not give it tongue. But tell me this? Love, you have not forgot The long years passed in this Corinthian home? The great love I have borne you through the years? Nor that far time when, in your mighty craft, You came, a stranger, to the Colchian shore? O strong you were; but not of such a strength To have escaped the doom of horrid death, Had not I, counting neither loss nor gain, Shown you the way to triumph and renown. JASON. And better had I then, a thousand times, Have fought with my good sword and fall’n or stood As the high Fates directed; than been caught In the close meshes of the magic web Wrought by your hand, dark-thoughted sorceress. NIKIAS. Did you mark that? Jason speaks low and smooth; Yet there is that within his level tones, And in the icy drooping of his lids (More than his words, tho’ they are harsh enough), Tells me he hates her. ÆGEUS. Hush! Medea speaks. MEDEA.