6 ARGONAUTAE
But all your prayers are answered by yourselves,
As I myself achieve this thought of mine.
CHORUS.
To me thou seemest to blaspheme the gods.
MEDEA.
Belike I seem, O ye of little wit.
CHORUS.
Surely thy tender years and gentle looks
Belie such hatred to our king! I scorn
To triumph on an enemy once fallen.
MEDEA.
Fools always! I am tenderer than my years,
And gentler than my glances.
CHORUS.
Sayst thou—what?
MEDEA,
Ye know me a most powerful sorceress.
CHORUS.
So I have heard, O lotus-footed one!
Nathless I see not any miracle.
MEDEA,
Last night the heavy-hearted audience
Broke up, and Jason wended wearily
His way, oppressed by direful bodements of
The fate of this forenoon. I saw him go
Sad, and remembered how sublime he stood,