Medea.
How then?—what shall I do?—fain would I this.
Jason.
Yield me my dead to bury and bewail.
Medea.
Never: with this hand will I bury them,
To Mountain Hêrê's precinct bearing them,
That never foe may do despite to them, 1380
Rifling their tomb. This land of Sisyphus
Will I constrain with solemn festival
And rites to atone for this unhallowed murder.
But I—I go unto Erechtheus' land,
With Aigeus to abide, Pandion's son. 1385
Thou, as is meet, foul wretch, shalt foully die,
By Argo's wreckage smitten on the skull,
Now thou hast seen this bridal's bitter ending.
Jason.
Now the Fury-avenger of children smite thee,
And Justice that looketh on murder requite thee! 1390
Medea.
What God or what spirit will heed thy request,
Caitiff forsworn, who betrayest the guest?
Jason.
Avaunt, foul thing by whose deed thy children have died!
Medea.
Go hence to thine halls, thence lead to the grave thy bride!
