Alas, the wedding chorus strikes my ears...

Alas, the wedding chorus strikes my ears; Now let me die! I could not hitherto Believe—can hardly yet believe such wrong. And this is Jason's deed? Of father, home, And kingdom reft, can he desert me now, Alone and in a foreign land? Can he Despise my worth who saw the flames and seas By my art conquered? thinks, perchance, all crime Exhausted! Tossed by every wave of doubt, I am distracted, seeking some revenge. Had he a brother's love—he has a bride; Through her be thrust the steel! Is this enough? If Grecian or barbarian cities know Crime that this hand knows not, that crime be done! Thy sins return to mind exhorting thee: The far-famed treasure of a kingdom lost; Thy little comrade, wicked maid, destroyed, Torn limb from limb and scattered on the sea An offering to his father; Pelias old Killed in the boiling cauldron. I have shed Blood often basely, but alas! alas! 'Twas not in wrath, unhappy love did all! Had Jason any choice, by foreign law And foreign power constrained? He could have bared His breast to feel the sword. O bitter grief, Speak milder, milder words. Let Jason live; Mine as he was, if this be possible, But, if not mine, still let him live secure, To spare me still the memory of my gift! The fault is Creon's; he abuses power To annul our marriage, sever strongest ties, And tear the children from their mother's breast; Let Creon pay the penalty he owes. I'll heap his home in ashes, the dark flame Shall reach Malea's dreaded cape, where ships Find passage only after long delay.

Seneca, Medea Act 2, Sc. 1