KING. These insults thou wilt soon enough put by, When thou shalt feel my heavy hand of doom! But is it certain that my child is dead? So many cry her dead, though I can find None that did see her fall! Is there no way To 'scape the fire? And can the flames wax strong So quickly? See how slow they lick and curl Along the fallen rafters of my house! Do ye not see? And yet ye say she's dead? An hour ago she stood before mine eyes A blooming flower, instinct with happy life-- And now she's dead! Nay, I cannot believe, And will not! 'Gainst my will I turn mine eyes Now here, now there, and cannot but believe That now, or now, or now at least, she must Appear in all her stainless purity And beauty, glide in safety to me here Through those black, smoldering ruins!--Who was by? Who saw her perish?--Thou?--Quick, speak!--Nay, then, Roll not thine eyes in horror! Tell thy tale, E'en though it kill me! Is she dead, indeed? A SLAVE-WOMAN. Dead! KING. And thou saw'st it? SLAVE-WOMAN. With my very eyes! Saw how the flames leaped forth from out that box Of gold, and caught her flesh-- KING. Hold! Hold! Enough! This woman saw it! Creusa is no more! Creusa! Oh, my daughter, my dear child! Once, many years agone, she burnt her hand Against the altar; she was but a child, And cried aloud with pain. I rushed to her And caught her in my arms, and to my lips. I put her poor scorched fingers, blowing hard To ease the burning pain. The little maid E'en through her bitter tears smiled up at me And, softly sobbing, whispered in my ear, "It is not much! I do not mind the pain!" Gods! That she should be burned to death? Oh, gods! [_He turns fiercely upon_ GORA.] And as for thee,--if I should plunge my sword Ten, twenty times, up to the hilt, clean through Thy body, would that bring my daughter back? Or, could I find that hideous witch-wife--Stay! Where went she, that hath robbed me of my child? I'll shake an answer straight from out thy mouth, Ay, though thy soul come with it, if thou'lt not Declare to me this instant where she's gone! GORA. I know not--and I care no whit to know! Let her go forth alone to her sure doom. Why dost thou tarry? Slay me! For I have No wish to live! KING. We'll speak of that anon; But first I'll have thy answer! JASON (_behind the scenes_).