Oft have I seen, in other days than these, How a dark temper maketh maladies No friend can heal. 'Twas easy to have kept Both land and home. It needed but to accept Unstrivingly the pleasure of our lords. But thou, for mere delight in stormy words, Wilt lose all! . . . Now thy speech provokes not me. Rail on. Of all mankind let Jason be Most evil; none shall check thee. But for these Dark threats cast out against the majesties Of Corinth, count as veriest gain thy path Of exile. I myself, when princely wrath Was hot against thee, strove with all good will To appease the wrath, and wished to keep thee still Beside me. But thy mouth would never stay From vanity, blaspheming night and day Our masters. Therefore thou shalt fly the land. Yet, even so, I will not hold my hand From succouring mine own people. Here am I To help thee, woman, pondering heedfully Thy new state. For I would not have thee flung Provisionless away--aye, and the young Children as well; nor lacking aught that will Of mine can bring thee. Many a lesser ill Hangs on the heels of exile. . . . Aye, and though Thou hate me, dream not that my heart can know Or fashion aught of angry will to thee. MEDEA. Evil, most evil! . . . since thou grantest me That comfort, the worst weapon left me now To smite a coward. . . . Thou comest to me, thou, Mine enemy! (_Turning to the_ CHORUS.) Oh, say, how call ye this, To face, and smile, the comrade whom his kiss Betrayed? Scorn? Insult? Courage? None of these: 'Tis but of all man's inward sicknesses The vilest, that he knoweth not of shame Nor pity! Yet I praise him that he came . . . To me it shall bring comfort, once to clear My heart on thee, and thou shalt wince to hear. I will begin with that, 'twixt me and thee, That first befell. I saved thee. I saved thee-- Let thine own Greeks be witness, every one That sailed on Argo--saved thee, sent alone To yoke with yokes the bulls of fiery breath, And sow that Acre of the Lords of Death; And mine own ancient Serpent, who did keep The Golden Fleece, the eyes that knew not sleep, And shining coils, him also did I smite Dead for thy sake, and lifted up the light That bade thee live. Myself, uncounsellèd, Stole forth from father and from home, and fled Where dark Iôlcos under Pelion lies, With thee--Oh, single-hearted more than wise! I murdered Pelias, yea, in agony, By his own daughters' hands, for sake of thee; I swept their house like War.--And hast thou then Accepted all--O evil yet again!-- And cast me off and taken thee for bride Another? And with children at thy side! One could forgive a childless man. But no: I have borne thee children . . . Is sworn faith so low And weak a thing? I understand it not. Are the old gods dead? Are the old laws forgot, And new laws made? Since not my passioning, But thine own heart, doth cry thee for a thing Forsworn.