MEDEA. That I must forth, is sure; what else May chance ere that, I cannot see. My heart leaps up, when I recall The foul injustice I have borne, And glows with fierce revenge! No deed So dread or awful but I would Put hand to it!-- He loves these babes, Forsooth, because he sees in them His own self mirrored back again, Himself--his idol!--Nay, he ne'er Shall have them, shall not!--Nor will I! I hate them! GORA. Come within! Nay, why Wouldst tarry here? MEDEA. All empty is that house, And all deserted! Desolation broods Upon those silent walls, and all is dead Within, save bitter memories and grief! GORA. Look! They are coming who would drive us hence. Come thou within! MEDEA. Thou saidst the Argonauts Found each and every one a grave unblest, The wages of their treachery and sin? GORA. Ay, sooth, and such a grave shall Jason find! MEDEA. He shall, I promise thee, he shall, indeed! Hylas was swallowed in a watery grave; The gloomy King of Shades holds Theseus bound; And how was that Greek woman called--the one That on her own blood bloody vengeance took? How was she called, then? Speak! GORA. I do not know What thou dost mean. MEDEA. Althea was her name! GORA. She who did slay her son MEDEA. The very same! How came it, then? Tell me the tale once more. GORA. Unwitting, in the chase, he had struck down Her brother. MEDEA. Him alone? He did not slay Her father, too? Nor fled his mother's arms, Nor thrust her from him, spurned her scornfully? And yet she struck him dead--that mighty man, Grim Meleager, her own son! And she-- She was a Greek! Althea was her name. Well, when her son lay dead--? GORA. Nay, there the tale Doth end. MEDEA. Doth end! Thou'rt right, for death ends all! GORA. Why stand we here and talk? MEDEA. Dost think that I Lack courage for the venture? Hark! I swear By the high gods, if he had giv'n me both My babes--But no! If I could take them hence To journey with me, at his own behest,