’Tis certain that the woman’s something strange.
Nikias.
Gods, spare me your strange women, so say I.
Give me gold hair, lithe limbs and gracious smiles,
And spare the strangeness.
Ægeus.
I do marvel much
How she will bear the tidings.
Nikias.
Lo, behold!
Here comes our Jason striding ’thwart the streets.
Gods! what a gracious presence!
Ægeus.
I perceive
The Colchian on the threshold. By her looks,
Our idle talk has reached her listening ears.
[Enter Jason. Medea reappears on the threshold.]