I did it not! JASON. Who, then, is guilty? MEDEA. Not myself, at least! Listen, my husband, and be thou the first To do me justice. As I stood at the chamber door, to enter And steal away the Fleece, The king lay there on his couch; Sudden I heard a cry! I turned, And lo! I saw the aged king Leap from his couch with frightful shrieks, Twisting and writhing; and he cried, "Com'st thou, O brother, to take revenge, Revenge on me? Ha! Thou shalt die Again, and yet again!" And straight He sprang at me, to grip me fast, For in my hands I held the Fleece. I shook with fear, and cried aloud For help to those dark gods I know; The Fleece before me like a shield I held. His face was twisted swift To maniac grins, and leered at me! Then, with a shriek, he madly tore At the clothes that bound his aged veins; They rent; the blood gushed forth in streams, And, even as I looked, aghast And full of horror, there he lay, The king, at my very feet, all bathed In his own blood-lay cold and dead! JASON. And thou canst stand and tell me such a tale, Thou hateful witchwife? Get thee gone from me! Away! I shudder at thee! Would that I Had ne'er beheld thy face! MEDEA. Thou knewest well That I was skilled in witchcraft, from that day When first thou saw'st me at my magic arts, And still didst yearn and long to call me thine! JASON. I was a youth then, and an arrant fool! What boys are pleased with, men oft cast away.