GORA. Ay, herself.
MEDEA. Herself!
GORA. Althea 'twas—his mother—smote
The mighty Meleager down
Who slew the Calydonian boar;
The mother slew her child.
MEDEA. Was she
Forsaken by her husband, too?
GORA. Nay, he had slain her brother.
MEDEA. Who?
The husband
GORA. Nay, her son, I mean.
MEDEA. And when the deed was done, she died?
GORA. She liveth yet.
MEDEA. To do a deed
Like that—and live! Oh, horrible!
Thus much do I know, thus much I see clear
Not unavenged shall I suffer wrong;
What that vengeance shall be, I know not,—would not know.
Whatso'er I can do, he deserves,—ay, the worst!
But—mankind are so weak,
So fain to grant time for the sinner to feel remorse!