As you have said, O Jason, let it be. I for my part am nothing loth to break A compact never in fair justice framed, Seeing how much one gave and one how much. For you, you thought: This maid has served me well, And yet may serve me. When I touch her palm The blood is set a-tingle in my veins; For these things I will make her body mine. And I, I stood before you, clean and straight, A woman some deemed fair and all deemed wise; A woman, yet no simple thing nor slight, By nature fashioned in no niggard mould; And looked into your eyes with eyes that spake: Lo, utterly, for ever, I am yours. And since that you, this gift I lavish laid Low at your feet, have lightly held and spurned-- I in my two arms, thus, shall gather it up So that your feet may not encounter it Which is not worthy for your feet to tread! Yet pause a moment, Jason. Haply now In some such wise as this your thoughts run on: I loved this woman for a little space; Alas, poor soul, she loved me but too well-- It is the way with women! Some, I think, Did deem her fierce; gods! she was meek enough, Content with what I gave; when I gave not Nothing importunate. Ah, Jason, pause. You never knew Medea. You forget, Because so long she bends the knee to you, She was not born to serfdom. I have knelt Too long before you. I have stood too long Suppliant before this people. You forget A redder stream flows in my Colchian veins Than the slow flood which courses round your hearts, O cold Corinthians, with whom I long have dwelt And never ere this day have known myself. Nor have ye known me. Now behold me free, Ungyved by any chains of this man wrought; Nothing desiring at your hands nor his. Free, freer than the air or winged birds; Strong, stronger than the blast of wintry storms; And lifted up into an awful realm Where is nor love, nor pity, nor remorse, Nor dread, but only purpose. There shall be A horror and a horror in this land; Woe upon woe, red blood and biting flame; Most horrid death and anguish worse than death; Deeds that shall make the shores of Hades sound With murmured terror; with an awful dread Shall move the generations yet unborn; A horror and a horror in the land. JASON. Shrew, triple-linked with Hell, get you within. Shame not my house! ’Tis your own harm you work. [MEDEA _goes within_. JASON _moves off slowly_. ÆGEUS _and_ NIKIAS _go off conferring in whispers_.] SCENE II. [Time--_After an interval; the evening of the same day._ Scene--_A street. A crowd of people running to and fro._] NIKIAS. O horror, horror, have ye heard the tale? ÆGEUS. Alas, a bloody rumour reached mine ears Of awful purport: that the king lies dead-- NIKIAS.