ACTUS QUINTUS
And vengeance shall smite one, and one lay bare
Her breasts in vain for love: until the house
Perish in uttermost red ruin.
CHORUS.
Bah!
Speared wild-cats bravely spit!
JASON.
To Creon, come!
MADNESS.
Black Ares hath chosen
Me wisely, to send
A doom deep-frozen
From now to the end.
Never the curse
Shall pass from the house,
But gather a worse
Hate for a spouse.
The lovers are better
Escaped from my toils
Than these in the fetter
Of the golden spoils.
Yet still lies a doom
For the royal lovers.
Time bears in her womb
That darkness covers
A terror, and waits
The hour that is Fate’s.
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