[She lays the lyre aside and rises.]
Were it a spear-haft, or the weapons fierce
Of the bloody hunt, these hands were quick enough.
[She raises her right hand and gazes at it reproachfully.]
Rebellious fingers! I would punish them!
CREUSA. Perverse one! When my heart was filled with joy
At thinking how 'twould gladden Jason's heart
To hear this song from thee!
MEDEA. Ay, thou art right.
I had forgot that. Let me try once more.
The song will please him, think'st thou, truly
please him?
CREUSA. Nay, never doubt it. 'Tis the song he sang
When he dwelt here with us in boyhood days.
Each time I heard it, joyfully I sprang
To greet him, for it meant he was come home.
MEDEA (eagerly).
Teach me the song again!
CREUSA. Come, listen, then.
'Tis but a short one, nor so passing sweet;
But then—he knew to sing it with such grace,
Such joy, such lordly pride—ay, almost scorn!