Tomorrow they will call me a monster, among harsher titles, between prayers and vows for vengeance. Once they put out the final fire,
they will leave you to bury charred Creusa and her father beside our two sons. But while I have you here now, think of tomorrow. Calling me monster
won’t stop this. I still hear my brother pleading, Jason doesn’t love; he lusts for power and vengeance. Once you’ve put out the fire
in his loins, he’ll already be seeking a new lover— I cut him off, then, with a few well-placed blows. They’ve called me a killer and a whore
across the Aegean, from that first murder to this last. There’s much to be said, you know, for vengeance; I recognized the fire
in your heart as fabricated the day you kissed her in the middle of the street. But it’s time for final bows, my love: Tomorrow they will call me a monster of vengeance—if they can put out this final fire.