_Medea [appearing on the housetop with her two sons_]: Now, now have I regained my regal state, my sire, My brother! Once again the Colchians hold the spoil Of precious gold! And by the magic of this hour I am a maid once more. O heavenly powers, appeased At length! O festal hour! O nuptial day! On, on! 985 Accomplished is the guilt, but not the recompense. Complete the task while yet thy hands are strong to act! Why dost thou linger still? why dost thou hesitate Upon the threshold of the deed? Thou canst perform it. Now wrath has died within me, and my soul is filled With shame and deep remorse. Ah me, what have I done, Wretch that I am? Wretch that thou art, well mayst thou mourn, 990 For thou hast done it! At that thought delirious joy O'ermasters me and fills my heart which fain would grieve. And yet, methinks, the act was almost meaningless, Since Jason saw it not; for naught has been performed If to his grief be added not the woe of sight. _Jason_ [_discovering her_]: Lo, there she stands upon the lofty battlements! 995 Bring torches! fire the house, that she may fall ensnared By those devices she herself hath planned. _Medea_ [_derisively_]: Not so, But rather build a lofty pyre for these thy sons; Their funeral rites prepare. Already for thy bride And father have I done the service due the dead; For in their ruined palace have I buried them. One son of thine has met his doom; and this shall die 1000 Before his father's face. _Jason:_ By all the gods, and by the perils of our flight, And by our marriage bond which I have ne'er betrayed, I pray thee spare the boy, for he is innocent. If aught of sin there be, 'tis mine. Myself I give To be the victim. Take my guilty soul for his. 1005 _Medea:_ 'Tis for thy prayers and tears I draw, not sheathe the sword. Go now, and take thee maids for wives, thou faithless one; Abandon and betray the mother of thy sons. _Jason:_ And yet, I pray thee, let one sacrifice atone. _Medea:_ If in the blood of one my passion could be quenched, No vengeance had it sought. Though both my sons I slay, 1010 The number still is all too small to satisfy My boundless grief. _Jason:_ Then finish what thou hast begun-- I ask no more--and grant at least that no delay Prolong my helpless agony. 1015 _Medea:_ Now hasten not, Relentless passion, but enjoy a slow revenge. This day is in thy hands; its fertile hours employ. _Jason:_ Oh, take my life, thou heartless one.