[She takes the gifts out of the chest one by one.]

This golden box, first, that doth treasure up
Most precious ointments.  Ah, the bride will shine
Like blazing stars, if she will ope its lid! 
But bear it heedfully, and shake it not!

GORA.  Woe’s me!

[She has grasped the ointment-box firmly in her left hand; as she steadies it with her right hand, she slightly jars the cover open, and a blinding flame leaps forth.]

MEDEA.  I warned thee not to shake it, fool! 
             Back to thy house again,
             Serpent with forked tongue! 
             Wait till the knell hath rung;
             Thou shalt not wait in vain! 
             Now clasp it tightly, carry it with heed!

GORA.  I fear some dreadful thing will come of this!

MEDEA.  So!  Thou wouldst warn me?  ’Tis a wise old crone!

GORA.  And I must bear it?

MEDEA.  Yea!  Obey, thou slave! 
             How darest thou presume to answer me? 
             Be silent!  Nay, thou shalt, thou must! 
                     And next
             Here on this salver, high-embossed with gold,
             I set this jeweled chalice, rich and fair
             To see, and o’er it lay the best of all,
             The thing her heart most craves—­the Golden Fleece!—­
             Go hence and do thine errand.  Nay, but first
             Spread o’er these gifts this mantle—­fair it is
             And richly broidered, made to grace a queen—­
             To cover all from sight and keep them hid.—­
             Now, go, and do what I commanded thee,
             And take these gifts, that foe doth send to foe!

[A slave-woman enters with the children.]

SLAVE.  My lord the king hath sent these children hither;
             And when an hour is gone I take them back.

MEDEA.  Sooth, they come early to the marriage feast! 
             Now to thy mistress lead my servant here;
             She takes a message from me, bears rich gifts.

(She turns to GORA.)

And thou, remember what I told thee late! 
Nay, not a word!  It is my will!

(To the slave-woman.)

Away! 
And bring her to thy mistress.

[GORA and the slave-woman depart together.]

Well begun,
But not yet ended!  Easy is my path,
Now I see clearly what I have to do!

[The children, hand in hand, make as if to follow the slave-woman.]

Where go ye?

BOY.  In the house!

MEDEA.  What seek ye there?

BOY.  Our father told us we should stay with her.