And wanton, but I was not ever so;
Though I can feel how one may learn to be.
For dread and awful thoughts do shape themselves
Within my soul; I shudder--yet rejoice
Thereat! When all is finished--Gora, hither!

GORA. What wouldst thou?

MEDEA. Come to me!

GORA. And why?

MEDEA. Come hither!
See! There they lay, the babes--ay, and the bride,
Bleeding, and dead! And he, the bridegroom, stood
And looked and tore his hair! A fearful sight
And ghastly!

GORA. Heaven forfend! What mean these words?

MEDEA. Ha, ha! Thou'rt struck with terror then, at last?
Nay, 'tis but empty words that I did speak.
My old, fierce will yet lives, but all my strength
Is vanished. Oh, were I Medea still--!
But no, I am no more! O Jason, why,
Why hast thou used me so? I sheltered thee,
Saved thee, and gave thee all my heart to keep;
All that was mine, I flung away for thee!
Why wilt thou cast me off, why spurn my love,
Why drive the kindly spirits from my heart
And set fierce thoughts of vengeance in their place?
I dream of vengeance, when I have no more
The power to wreak revenge! The charms I had
From my own mother, that grim Colchian queen,
From Hecate, that bound dark gods to me
To do my bidding, I have buried them,
Ay, and for love of thee!--have sunk them deep
In the dim bosom of our mother Earth;
The ebon wand, the veil of bloody hue,
Gone!--and I stand here helpless, to my foes
No more a thing of terror, but of scorn!

GORA. Then speak not of them if they'll serve thee not!

MEDEA. I know well where they lie;
For yonder on the plashy ocean-strand
I coffined them and sank them deep in earth.
'Tis but to toss away a little mold,
And they are mine! But in my inmost soul
I shudder when I think on such a venture,
And on that blood-stained Fleece. Methinks the ghosts
Of father, brother, brood upon their grave
And will not let them go. Dost thou recall
How on the pavement lay my old, gray sire