ACTUS QUINTUS
MEDEA.
The child
Hath hewn her sire asunder, seething him
In herbs of sacred power.
ACASTUS.
By thy decree?
MEDEA,
Nay!
MADNESS.
Safer is it to admit to these
Fools—charge the child with lack of fortune!
MEDEA.
Yea!
I bade her take a waxen shape, carved well
To look like the old man——
ALCESTIS.
Nay! nay! the Sire
Himself we stole on sleeping——
CHORUS.
Hewn apart!
Ai Ai!
MEDEA.
I said not thus!
ALCESTIS,
I am so wild,
Bewildered with these tears.
17