_Medea:_ Thou bid'st me speed my flight? Nay rather, had I fled I should return for this. Strange bridal rites I see! [_Absorbed in her own reflections._] Why dost thou falter, O my soul? 'Tis well begun; 895 But still how small a portion of thy just revenge Is that which gives thee present joy? Not yet has love Been banished from thy maddened heart if 'tis enough That Jason widowed be. Pursue thy vengeful quest To acts as yet unknown, and steel thyself for these. Away with every thought and fear of God and man; 900 Too lightly falls the rod that pious hands upbear. Give passion fullest sway; exhaust thy ancient powers; And let the worst thou yet hast done be innocent Beside thy present deeds. Come, let them know how slight Were those thy crimes already done; mere training they 905 For greater deeds. For what could hands untrained in crime Accomplish? Or what mattered maiden rage? But now, I am Medea; in the bitter school of woe My powers have ripened. 910 [_In an ecstacy of madness._] Oh, the bliss of memory! My infant brother slain, his limbs asunder rent, My royal father spoiled of his ancestral realm, And Pelias' guiltless daughters lured to slay their sire! But here I must not rest; no untrained hand I bring 915 To execute my deeds. But now, by what approach Or by what weapon wilt thou threat the treacherous foe? Deep hidden in my secret heart have I conceived A purpose which I dare not utter. Oh, I fear That in my foolish madness I have gone too far-- I would that children had been born to him of this 920 My hated rival. Still, since she hath gained his heart, His children too are hers-- That punishment would be most fitting and deserved. Yes, now I see the final deed of crime, and thou, My soul, must face it. You, who once were called my sons, Must pay the penalty of these your father's crimes-- 925 My heart with horror melts, a numbing chill pervades My limbs, and all my soul is filled with sinking fear. Now wrath gives place, and, heedless of my husband's sins, The tender mother-instinct quite possesses me. And could I shed my helpless children's blood? Not so, Oh, say not so, my maddened heart! Far from my hand 930 And thought be that unnameable and hideous deed! What sin have they that shedding of their wretched blood Would wash away? Their sin--that Jason is their sire, And, deeper guilt, that I have borne them. Let them die; They are not mine. Nay, nay! they are my own, my sons, And with no spot of guilt. Full innocent they are, 935 'Tis true--my brother, too, was innocent. O soul, Why dost thou hesitate? Why flow these streaming tears,