Then strike me, strike!
CREUSA (to JASON).
Hold! Let her go in peace, and harm her not!
MEDEA. Ha! Thou here, too, thou snow-white, silvery snake?
Oh, hiss no more, nor shoot thy forked tongue
With honied words upon it! Thou hast got
What thou didst wish—a husband at the last!
For this, then, didst thou show thyself so soft
And smooth-caressing, for this only wind
Thy snaky coils so close about my neck?
Oh, if I had a dagger, I would smite
Thee, and thy father, that so righteous king!
For this, then, hast thou sung those winsome songs,
Taught me to play the lyre, and tricked me out
In these rich garments?
[She suddenly rends her mantle in twain.]
Off with you! Away
With the vile gifts of that accursed jade!
[_She turns to _JASON.]
See! As I tear this mantle here in twain,
Pressing one part upon my throbbing breast,
And cast the other from me at thy feet,
So do I rend my love, the common tie
That bound us each to each. What follows now
I cast on thee, thou miscreant, who hast spurned
The holy claims of an unhappy wife!—
Give me my children now, and let me go!
KING. The children stay with us.
MEDEA. They may not go
With their own mother?