JASON (dully).
It is.
CREUSA (pressing close to her father).
O, horror!
MEDEA (to CREUSA).
Thou'rt wrong. I never slew my sire.
My brother died, 'tis true; but ask my lord
If 'twas my doing.
[_She points to _JASON.]
True it is, fair maid,
That I am skilled to mix such magic potions
As shall bring death or healing, as I will.
And many a secret else I know. Yet, see!
I am no monster, no, nor murderess.
CREUSA. Oh, dreadful, horrible.
KING. And is she thy—wife?