Chapter 8

_The outer court of CREON'S palace. In the background the entrance to the royal apartments; on the right at the side a colonnade leading to_ MEDEA's _apartments._

MEDEA _is standing in the foreground, behind her at a distance _GORA _is seen speaking to a servant of the king._

GORA. Say to the king: Medea takes no message from a slave. Hath he aught to say to her, He must e'en come himself. Perchance she'll deign to hear him.

[_The slave departs._]

(GORA _comes forward and addresses _MEDEA.)

They think that thou wilt go, Taming thy hate, forgetting thy revenge. The fools! Or wilt thou go? Wilt thou? I could almost believe thou wilt. For thou no longer art the proud Medea, The royal seed of Colchis' mighty king, The wise and skilful daughter of a wise And skilful mother. Else hadst thou not been patient, borne their gibes So long, even until now!

MEDEA. Ye gods! O hear her! Borne! Been patient! So long, even until now!

GORA. I counseled thee to yield, to soften, When thou didst seek to tarry yet awhile; But thou wert blind, ensnared; The heavy stroke had not yet fallen, Which I foresaw, whereof I warned thee first. But, now that it is fall'n, I bid thee stay! They shall not laugh to scorn this Colchian wife, Heap insult on the blood of our proud kings! Let them give back thy babes, The offshoots of that royal oak, now felled, Or perish, fall themselves, In darkness and in night! Is all prepared for flight? Or hast thou other plans?

MEDEA. First I will have my children. For the rest, My way will be made plain.

GORA. Then thou wilt flee?

MEDEA. I know not, yet.

GORA. Then they will laugh at thee!

MEDEA. Laugh at me? No!

GORA. What is thy purpose, then?

MEDEA. I have no heart to plan or think at all. Over the silent abyss Let dark night brood!

GORA. If thou wouldst flee, then whither?

MEDEA (_sorrowfully_).

Whither? Ah, whither?

GORA. Here in this stranger-land There is no place for us. They hate thee sore, These Greeks, and they will slay thee!

MEDEA. Slay me? Me? Nay, it is I will slay them!

GORA. And at home, There in far Colchis, danger waits us, too!

MEDEA. O Colchis, Colchis! O my fatherland!

GORA. Thou hast heard the tale, how thy father died When thou wentest forth, and didst leave thy home, And thy brother fell? He died, says the tale, But methinks 'twas not so? Nay, he gripped his grief, Sharper far than a sword, and, raging 'gainst Fate, 'Gainst himself, fell on death!

MEDEA. Dost thou, too, join my foes? Wilt thou slay me?

GORA. Nay, hark! I warned thee. I said: "Flee these strangers, new-come; most of all flee this man, Their leader smooth-tongued, the dissembler, the traitor!"

MEDEA. "Smooth-tongued, the dissembler, the traitor" --were these thy words?

GORA. Even these.

MEDEA. And I would not believe?

GORA. Thou wouldst not; but into the deadly net Didst haste, that now closes over thine head.

MEDEA. "A smooth-tongued traitor!" Yea, that is the word! Hadst thou said but that, I had known in time; But thou namedst him foe to us, hateful, and dread, While friendly he seemed and fair, and I hated him not.

GORA. Thou lovest him, then?

MEDEA. I? Love? I hate and shudder at him As at falsehood, treachery, Black horrors--as at myself!

GORA. Then punish him, strike him low! Avenge thy brother, thy sire, Our fatherland and our gods, Our shame-yea, mine, and thine!

MEDEA. First I will have my babes; All else is hidden in night. What think'st thou of this?--When he comes Treading proud to his bridal with her, That maid whom I hate, If, from the roof of the palace above him, Medea crash down at his feet and lie there, A ghastly corpse?

GORA. 'Twere a sweet revenge!

MEDEA. Or if, at the bridal-chamber's door, I lay her dead in her blood, Beside her the children--Jason's children--dead?

GORA. But thyself such revenge would hurt, and not him.

MEDEA. Ah, I would that he loved me still, That I might slay myself, and make him groan! But what of that maid, so false, so pure?

GORA. Ha! There thou strikest nearer to the mark!

MEDEA. Peace, peace! Back, whence ye came, ye evil thoughts! Back into silence, into darkest night!

[_She covers her face with her veil._]

GORA. Those heroes all, who made with him The wanton Argo-voyage hence, The gods above have recompensed With just requital, swift revenge. Death and disgrace have seized them all Save one--how long shall he go free? Each day I listen greedily, And joy to hear how they have died, How fell these glorious sons of Greece, The robber-band that fought their way Back from far Colchis. Thracian maids Rent limb from limb sweet Orpheus' frame; And Hylas found a watery grave; Pirithoüs and Theseus pierced Even to Hades' darksome realm To rob that mighty lord of shades Of his radiant spouse, Persephone; But then he seized, and holds them there For aye in chains and endless night.

MEDEA (_swiftly snatching her veil from before her face_).

Because they came to steal his wife? Good! Good! 'Twas Jason's crime, nay, less!

GORA. Great Heracles forsook his wife, For he was snared by other charms, And in revenge she sent to him A linen tunic, which he took And clad himself therewith--and sank To earth in hideous agonies; For she had smeared it secretly With poison and swift death. He sank To earth, and Oeta's wooded heights Were witness how he died in flames!

MEDEA. She wove it, then, that tunic dire That slew him?

GORA. Ay, herself.

MEDEA. Herself!

GORA. Althea 'twas--his mother--smote The mighty Meleager down Who slew the Calydonian boar; The mother slew her child.

MEDEA. Was she Forsaken by her husband, too?

GORA. Nay, he had slain her brother.

MEDEA. Who? The husband

GORA. Nay, her son, I mean.

MEDEA. And when the deed was done, she died?

GORA. She liveth yet.

MEDEA. To do a deed Like that--and live! Oh, horrible! Thus much do I know, thus much I see clear Not unavenged shall I suffer wrong; What that vengeance shall be, I know not,--would not know. Whatso'er I can do, he deserves,--ay, the worst! But--mankind are so weak, So fain to grant time for the sinner to feel remorse!

GORA. Remorse? Ask thy lord if he rue his deed! For, see! He draws nigh with hasty steps.

MEDEA. And with him the king, my bitter foe, Whose counsel hath led my lord astray. Him must I flee, for I cannot tame My hatred.

[_She goes swiftly toward the palace._]

But if lord Jason wish To speak with me, then bid him come in, To my side in the innermost chambers--there I would parley with him, not here By the side of the man who is my foe. They come. Away!

[_She disappears into the palace._]

GORA. Lo, she is gone! And I am left to deal with the man Who is killing my child, who hath brought it to pass That I lay my head on a foreign soil, And must hide my tears of bitter woe, Lest I see a smile on the lips of these strangers here.

_The_ KING _and _JASON _enter._

KING. Why hath thy mistress fled? 'Twill serve her not

GORA. Fled? Nay, she went, because she hates thy face

KING. Summon her forth!

GORA. She will not come.

KING. She shall!

GORA. Then go thou in thyself and call her forth, If thou dost dare.

KING (_angrily_).

Where am I, then, and who, That this mad woman dares to spite me thus? The servant mirrors forth the mistress' soul-- Servant and mistress mirror forth that land Of darkness that begat them! Once again I tell thee, call her forth!

GORA (_pointing to Jason_).

There stands the man That she would speak with. Let him go within-- If he hath courage for it.

JASON. Get thee gone, Old witch, whom I have hated from the first! Tell her, who is so like thee, she must come.

GORA. Ah, if she were like me, thou wouldst not speak In such imperious wise! I promise thee That she shall know of it, and to thy dole!

JASON. I would have speech with her.

GORA. Go in!

JASON. Not I! 'Tis she that shall come forth. Go thou within And tell her so!

GORA. Well, well, I go, if but To rid me of the sight of you, my lords; Ay, and I'll bear your summons, but I know Full well she will not come, for she is weak And feels her sickness all too grievously.

[_She goes into the palace._]

KING. Not one day longer will I suffer her To stay in Corinth. This old dame but now Gave utterance to the dark and fell designs On which yon woman secretly doth brood. Methinks her presence is a constant threat. Thy doubts, I hope, are laid to rest at last?

JASON. Fulfil, O King, thy sentence on my wife! She can no longer tarry where I am, So, let her go; the sentence is not harsh. Forsooth, though I am less to blame than she, My lot is bitt'rer, harder far than hers. She but returns to that grim wilderness Where she was born, and, like a restive colt From whom the galling yoke is just removed, Will rush to freedom, and become once more Untamed and stubborn. But my place is here; Here must I sit and while away the days In meek inaction, burdened with the scorn And scoffing of mankind, mine only task Dully to muse upon my vanished past.

KING. Thou wilt be great and famous yet again, Believe me. Like the bow which, once set free From the fierce strain, doth speed the arrow swift And straight unto its mark, whenso the hand Is loosed that bent it, so wilt thou spring back And be thyself again, once she is gone.

JASON. Naught feel I in my breast to feed such hopes! Lost is my name, my fame; I am no more Than Jason's shadow, not that prince himself.

KING. The world, my son, is not so harsh as thou: An older man's misstep is sin and crime; The youth's, a misstep only, which he may Retrace, and mend his error. All thy deeds In Colchis, when thou went a hot-head boy, Will be forgot, if thou wilt show thyself Henceforth a man.

JASON. O, might I trust thy words, I could be happy once again!

KING. Let her But leave thy side, and thou wilt say I'm right. Before the Amphictyons' judgment-seat I'll go And speak for thee, defend thy righteous cause, And prove that it was she alone, Medea, Who did those horrid deeds wherewith thou'rt charged, Prove her the wanton, her the darksome witch. Lifted shall be the doom of banishment From off thy brow. If not, then thou shalt rise In all thy stubborn strength, and to the breeze Unfurl the glorious banner of pure gold Which thou didst bring from earth's most distant land, And, like a rushing torrent, all the youth Of Greece will stream to serve thee once again And rally 'round thy standard to oppose All foes that come, rally 'round thee, now purged Of all suspicion, starting life anew, The glorious hope of Greece, and of the Fleece The mighty hero!--Thou hast got it still?

JASON. The Fleece?

KING. Ay.

JASON. Nay, not I.

KING. And yet thy wife Bore it away from old King Pelias' house.

JASON. Then she must have it still.

KING. If so, then she Shall straightway yield it up, perforce. It is The pledge and symbol of thy power to come. Ay, thou shalt yet be strong and great again, Thou only son of my old friend! A king Am I, and have both wealth and power, the which With mine own daughter's spouse I'll gladly share.

JASON. And I will go to claim the heritage My fathers left me, of that false man's son That keeps it from me. For I, too, am rich, Could I but have my due.

KING. Peace! Look, she comes Who still doth vex us. But our task is brief.

MEDEA _comes out of the palace, attended by_ GORA.

MEDEA. What wouldst thou with me?

KING. I did send thee late Some slaves to speak my will, whom thou didst drive With harsh words forth, and didst demand to hear From mine own lips whate'er I had to say, What my commands and what thou hadst to do.

MEDEA. Say on!

KING. Naught strange or new have I to tell. I would but speak once more the doom I set Upon thy head, and add thereto that thou Must forth today.

MEDEA. And why today?

KING. The threats That thou halt uttered 'gainst my daughter's life-- For those against mine own I do not care: The savage moods that thou of late hast shown, All these do warn me how thy presence here Bodes ill. Wherefore, today thou must begone!

MEDEA. Give me my babes, and I will go--perhaps!

KING. Nay, no "Perhaps!" Thou goest! But the babes Stay here!

MEDEA. How? Mine own babes? But I forget To whom I speak. Let me have speech with him, My husband, standing there.

KING. Nay, hear her not!

MEDEA (_to _JASON).

I pray thee, let me speak with thee!

JASON. Well, well, So be it, then, that thou may'st see I have No fear of any words of thine to me.

(_To the_ KING.)

Leave us, my lord! I'll hear what she would say.

KING. I go, but I am fearful. She is sly And cunning! [_He departs._]

MEDEA. So, he's gone! No stranger now Is here to vex us, none to come between Husband and wife, and, what our hearts do feel, That we can speak out clear.--Say first, my lord, What are thy plans, thy wishes?

JASON. Thou dost know.

MEDEA. I guess thy will, but all thy secret thoughts I know not.

JASON. Be contented with the first, For they are what decide.

MEDEA. Then I must go?

JASON. Go!

MEDEA. And today?

JASON. Today!

MEDEA. And thou canst stand So calm before me and speak such a word, Nor drop thine eyes for shame, nor even blush?

JASON. I must needs blush, if I should say aught else!

MEDEA. Ha! Good! Well done! Speak ever words like these When thou wouldst clear thyself in others' eyes, But leave such idle feigning when thou speak'st With me!

JASON. Dost call my dread of horrid deeds Which thou hast done, a sham, and idle, too? Thou art condemned by men; the very gods Have damned thee! And I give thee up to them And to their judgment! 'Tis a fate, in sooth, Thou richly hast deserved!

MEDEA. Who is this man, This pious, virtuous man with whom I speak? Is it not Jason? Strives he to seem mild? O, mild and gentle one, didst thou not come To Colchis' strand, and win in bloody fight The daughter of its king? O, gentle, mild, Didst thou not slay my brother, was it not At thine own hands mine aged father fell, Thou gentle, pious man? And now thou wouldst Desert the wife whom thou didst steal away! Mild? No, say rather hateful, monstrous man!

JASON. Such wild abuse I will not stay to hear. Thou knowest now what thou must do. Farewell!

MEDEA. Nay, nay, I know not! Stay until I learn! Stay, and I will be quiet even as thou.-- So, I am banished, then? But what of thee? Methinks the Herald's sentence named thee, too.

JASON. When it is known that I am innocent Of all these horrid deeds, and had no hand In murdering mine uncle, then the ban Will be removed from me.

MEDEA. And thou wilt live Peaceful and happy, for long years to come?

JASON. I shall live quietly, as doth become Unhappy men like me.

MEDEA. And what of me?

JASON. Thou dost but reap the harvest thine own hands Have sown.

MEDEA. My hands? Hadst thou no part therein?

JASON. Nay, none.

MEDEA. Didst never pray thine uncle's death Might speedily be compassed?

JASON. No command At least I gave.

MEDEA. Ne'er sought to learn if I Had heart and courage for the deed?

JASON. Thou know'st How, in the first mad burst of rage and hate, A man speaks many hot, impetuous threats Which calm reflection never would fulfil.

MEDEA. Once thou didst blame thyself for that mad deed; Now thou hast found a victim who can bear The guilt in place of thee!

JASON. 'Tis not the thought Of such a deed that merits punishment; It is the deed itself.

MEDEA (_quickly_).

I did it not!

JASON. Who, then, is guilty?

MEDEA. Not myself, at least! Listen, my husband, and be thou the first To do me justice. As I stood at the chamber door, to enter And steal away the Fleece, The king lay there on his couch; Sudden I heard a cry! I turned, And lo! I saw the aged king Leap from his couch with frightful shrieks, Twisting and writhing; and he cried, "Com'st thou, O brother, to take revenge, Revenge on me? Ha! Thou shalt die Again, and yet again!" And straight He sprang at me, to grip me fast, For in my hands I held the Fleece. I shook with fear, and cried aloud For help to those dark gods I know; The Fleece before me like a shield I held. His face was twisted swift To maniac grins, and leered at me! Then, with a shriek, he madly tore At the clothes that bound his aged veins; They rent; the blood gushed forth in streams, And, even as I looked, aghast And full of horror, there he lay, The king, at my very feet, all bathed In his own blood-lay cold and dead!

JASON. And thou canst stand and tell me such a tale, Thou hateful witchwife? Get thee gone from me! Away! I shudder at thee! Would that I Had ne'er beheld thy face!

MEDEA. Thou knewest well That I was skilled in witchcraft, from that day When first thou saw'st me at my magic arts, And still didst yearn and long to call me thine!

JASON. I was a youth then, and an arrant fool! What boys are pleased with, men oft cast away.

MEDEA. O, say no word against the golden days Of youth, when heads are hot, but hearts are pure! O, if thou wert but now what once thou wast, Then were I happier far! Come back with me Only a little step to that fair time When, in our fresh, green youth, we strayed together By Phasis' flowery marge. How frank and clear Thy heart was then, and mine how closely sealed And sad! But thou with thy soft, gentle light Didst pierce my darkness, drive away the clouds, And make me bright and happy. Thine I was, And thou wert mine; O, Jason, is it then Vanished forever, that far, happy time? Or hath the bitter struggle for a hearth And home, for name and fame, forever killed The blooms of fairest promise on the tree Of thy green youth? Oh, compassed though I be With woe and heavy sorrows all about, Yet I think often on that springtime sweet Whence soft and balmy breezes o'er the years Are wafted to me! If Medea then Seemed fair to thee and lovely, how today Can she be dread and hateful? What I was Thou knewest, and didst seek me none the less. Thou took'st me as I was; O, keep me, as I am!

JASON. Thou hast forgot the dreadful deeds that since Have come to pass.

MEDEA. Ay, dread they are, in sooth, And I confess it! 'Gainst mine aged sire I sinned most deeply, 'gainst my brother, too, And none condemns me more than I myself. I'll welcome punishment, and I'll repent In joy and gladness; only thou shalt not Pronounce the doom upon me, nay, not thou! For all my deeds were done for love of thee.-- Come, let us flee together, once again Made one in heart and soul! Some distant land Will take us to its bosom.

JASON. What land, then? And whither should we flee?

MEDEA. Whither!

JASON. Thou'rt mad, And dost revile me, that I do not choose To share thy raving! No! Our life together Is done! The gods have cursed our union long, As one with deeds of cruelty begun, That since hath waged and found its nourishment In horrid crimes. E'en granting thou didst not Thyself slay Pelias, who was there to see? Or who would trust thy tale?

MEDEA. Thou!

JASON. Even then, What can I do, how clear thee?--It were vain! Come, let us yield to Fate, not stubbornly Defy it! Let us each repentance seek, And suffer our just doom, thou fleeing forth Because thou may'st not stay, I tarrying here When I would flee.

MEDEA. Methinks thou dost not choose The harder lot!

JASON. Is it so easy, then, To live, a stranger, in a stranger's house, Subsisting on a stranger's pitying gifts?

MEDEA. Nay, if it seem so hard, why dost not choose To fly with me?

JASON. But whither? Ay, and how?

MEDEA. There was a time thou hadst not shown thyself So over-prudent, when thou camest first To Colchis from the city of thy sires, Seeking the glitter of an empty fame In distant lands.

JASON. I am not what I was; Broken my strength, the courage in my breast A dead thing. And 'tis thou I have to thank For such misfortune! Bitter memories Of days long past lie like a weight of lead Upon my anxious soul; I cannot raise Mine eyes for heaviness of heart. And, more, The boy of those far days is grown a man, No longer, like a wanton, sportive child, Gambols amid bright flow'rs, but reaches out For ripened fruit, for what is real and sure. Babes I have got, but have no place where they May lay their heads; my task it is to make An heritage for these. Shall Jason's stock Be but a withered weed beside the road, By all men spurned and trampled? If thou e'er Hast truly loved me, if I e'er was dear To thee, oh, give me proof thereof, restore Myself to me again, and yield a grave To me in this, my homeland!

MEDEA. And in this Same homeland a new marriage-bed, forsooth I Am I not right?

JASON. What idle talk is this?

MEDEA. Have I not heard how Creon named thee son, And husband of his daughter? She it is, Creusa, that doth charm thee, hold thee fast In Corinth! 'Tis for her that thou wouldst stay! Confess, I have thee there!

JASON. Thou hast me not, And never hadst me.

MEDEA. So, thou wilt repent, And I, thy wife Medea, I must go Away?--I stood beside you there and wept As thou didst trace with her your happy days Of youth together, tarrying at each step In sweet remembrance, till thou didst become Naught but an echo of that distant past.-- I will not go, no, will not!

JASON. Thou'rt unjust, And hard and wild as ever!

MEDEA. I unjust! Thou dost not seek her, then, to wife? Say no!

JASON. I do but seek a place to lay me down And rest. What else will come, I do not know!

MEDEA. Ay, but I know full well, and it shall be My task to thwart thee, with the help of heaven!

JASON. Thou canst not speak with calmness, so, farewell!

[_He takes a step toward the door._]

MEDEA. Jason!

JASON (_turning back_).

What wouldst thou?

MEDEA. 'Tis, perchance, the last, Last time that we shall speak together!

JASON. True; Then let us without hate or rancor part.

MEDEA. Thou mad'st me love thee deeply. Wouldst thou now Flee from my face?

JASON. I must!

MEDEA. Hast robbed me, too, Of my dear father; and wouldst steal away Mine husband?

JASON. I am helpless!

MEDEA. At thy hands My brother met his death untimely. Him Thou hast taken from me, too, and now wouldst fly And leave me?

JASON. He was innocent; he fell. And I am blameless, too; but I must flee thee.

MEDEA. I left my fatherland to follow thee!

JASON. Thou didst but follow thine own will, not me. Gladly would I, if thou hadst rued thy deed, Have sent thee back again.

MEDEA. I am accurst, And damned by all the world,--and all for thee! And, for thy sake, I even hate myself! Wilt thou forsake me still?

JASON. 'Tis not my will, Nay; but a higher bidding tells me plain That I must leave thy side. Thy fate seems hard, But what of mine? And yet, I pity thee, If that be any comfort!

MEDEA (_falling upon her knees to him_).

Jason!

JASON. Well? What wouldst thou further?

MEDEA (_rising suddenly_).

Nothing! It is past And done with! O proud sires, O mighty gods Of Colchis, grant forgiveness to thy child Who hath so humbled and dishonored you, (Ay, and herself as well)--for I was pressed And needs must do it. Now, receive me back!

[JASON _turns to leave her._]

Jason!

JASON. Hope not that thou canst soften me!

MEDEA. Nay, never think I wished it! Give me back My babes!

JASON.

Thy children? Never!

MEDEA (_wildly_).

They are mine!

JASON. Men call them by their father's name; and that Shall never grace barbarians! Here in Greece I'll rear them, to be Greeks!

MEDEA. To be despised And scorned by offspring of thy later bed? I tell thee, they are mine!

JASON. Nay, have a care, Lest thou shouldst turn my pity unto hate! And keep a quiet mien, since that is all Can soften thy hard fate.

MEDEA. To prayers and tears I needs must humble me! My husband!--No, For that thou art no more! Beloved!--No, For that, thou never wert! Man, shall I say? He is no man who breaks his solemn oath! Lord Jason!--Pah! It is a traitor's name! How shall I name thee? Devil!--Gentle! Good! Give me my babes, and let me go in peace!

JASON. I cannot, I have told thee, cannot do it.

MEDEA. Hard heart! Thou tak'st the husband from the wife, And robb'st the mother of her babes as well?

JASON. Nay, then, that thou may'st know how I have yet Some kindness left, take with thee when thou goest One of the babes.

MEDEA. But one? Say, only one?

JASON. Beware thou ask too much! The little I Have just now granted, oversteps the right.

MEDEA. Which shall it be?

JASON. We'll leave the choice to them, The babes themselves; and whichsoever will, Him thou shalt take.

MEDEA. O thanks a thousand times, Thou gentle, kindly man! He lies who calls Thee traitor!

[_The_ KING_ appears at the door._]

JASON. Come, my lord!

KING. Is't settled, then?

JASON. She goes; and I have granted her to take One of the children with her.

(_To one of the slaves who has accompanied the _KING.)

Hasten swift And bring the babes before us!

KING. What is this? Here they shall stay, ay, both of them!

MEDEA. This gift That in mine eyes so small is, seemeth it So great a boon to thee? Hast thou no fear Of Heaven's fell anger, harsh and violent man?

KING. The gods deal harshly with such wanton crimes As thou hast done!

MEDEA. Yea, but they see the cause That drove us to such deeds!

KING. 'Tis wicked thoughts, Deep in the heart, beget such crimes as thine!

MEDEA. All causes else thou count'st for naught?

KING. With stern And iron justice mine own self I rule, And so, with right, judge others.

MEDEA. In the act Of punishing my crimes, thou dost commit A worse thyself!

JASON. She shall not say of me That I am all hard-hearted; wherefore I One of the babes have promised her, to be His mother's dearest comfort in her woe.

CREUSA _enters with the children._

CREUSA. One told me that these babes were summoned here. What will ye have? What deeds are now afoot? Behold how they do love me, though they were But now brought here to Corinth! 'Tis as if Long years already we had seen and known Each one the other. 'Twas my gentle words That won them; for, poor babes, they were not used To loving treatment; and their sore distress, Their loneliness did straightway win my heart.

MEDEA. One of the babes goes with me!

CREUSA. What is this? Leaves us?

KING. E'en so. It is their father's will!

(_To_ MEDEA,_ who stands in deep meditation._)

Here are thy children. Let them make their choice!

MEDEA (_wildly_).

The babes! My children! Ay, 'tis they, in sooth! The one thing left me in this bitter world! Ye gods, forget those dark and wicked thoughts That late I harbored; grant me both my babes, Yea, both, and I'll go forth from out this land Praising your mercy! Yea, I'll e'en forgive My husband there, and her--No! Her I'll not Forgive--nor Jason, either! Come to me, Come here, my babes!--Why stand ye silent there And cling upon the breast of my false foe? Ah, could ye know how she hath humbled me, Ye would arm your tiny hands, curve into claws Those little, weakling fingers, rend and tear That soft and tender form, whereto ye cling So lovingly!--Wouldst hold my children back From coming to me? Let them go!

CREUSA. In sooth, Unhappy woman, I restrain them not!

MEDEA. Not with thy hand, I know, but with thy glance, Thy false, deceitful face, that seems all love, And holds my husband from me, too! Thou laugh'st? I promise thee thou'lt weep hot tears in days To come!

CREUSA. Now may the gods chastise me if I had A thought of laughing!

KING. Woman, break not forth In insults and in anger! Do what thou Hast yet to do, or go!

MEDEA. Thou'rt right, O king, Most just of kings! Not so much kind of heart As just! How do thy bidding? Yet will I Strive to do both. Hark, children! List to me! They send your mother forth, to wander wide O'er sea and land. Who knows where she shall come? These kindly folk, thy father, and that just And gentle king that standeth there, have said That I may take, to share my lonely fate, One of my babes, but only one. Ye gods, Hear ye this sentence? One, and one alone! Now, whichsoever of you loves me more, Let that one come to join me, for I may Not have you both; the other here must stay Beside his father, and with that false king's Still falser daughter!--Hear ye what I say? Why linger there?

KING. Thou seest they will not come!

MEDEA. Thou liest, false and wicked king! They would, Save that thy daughter hath enchanted them And keeps them from me!--Heard ye not, my babes?-- Accurst and monstrous children, bane and curse Of your poor mother, image of your sire!

JASON. They will not come!

MEDEA (_pointing to _CREUSA).

Let her but go away! They love me! Am I not their mother? Look How she doth beckon, nod to them, and draw Them further from me!

CREUSA. I will go away, Though I deserve not thy suspicious hate.

MEDEA. Come to me, children!--Come!--O viper brood!

[_She advances toward them threateningly; the children fly to_ CREUSA _for protection._]

MEDEA. They fly from me! They fly!

KING. Thou seest, Medea, The children will not come--so, get thee gone!

MEDEA. They will not? These my babes do fear to come Unto their mother?--No, it is not true, It cannot be!--Aeson, my elder son, My best beloved! See, thy mother calls! Come to her! Nay, no more will I be harsh, No more enangered with thee! Thou shalt be Most precious in mine eyes, the one thing left I call mine own! Hark to thy mother! Come!-- He turns his face away, and will not! O Thou thankless child, thou image of thy sire, Like him in each false feature, in mine eyes Hateful, as he is! Stay, then, where thou art! I know thee not!--But thou, Absyrtus, child Of my sore travail, with the merry face Of my lost brother whom with bitter tears I mourn, and mild and gentle as was he, See how thy mother kneels upon the ground And, weeping, calls thee! O let not her prayers Be all in vain! Absyrtus, come to me, My little son! Come to thy mother!--What? He tarries where he is! Thou, too? Thou, too? Give me a dagger, quick, that I may slay These whelps, and then myself!

[_She springs up._]

JASON. Nay, thou must thank thyself that thy wild ways Have startled them, estranged them, turned their hearts Unto that mild and gentle maid they love. They do but echo what the gods decree!-- Depart now; but the babes, they tarry here.

MEDEA. O children, hear me!

JASON. See, they hearken not!

MEDEA. O children, children!

KING (_to_ CREUSA).

Lead them back again Into the palace! 'Tis not meet they hate The mother that did bear them.

[CREUSA _moves away with the children._]

MEDEA. Woe is me! They flee! My children flee before my face!

KING (_to_ JASON).

Come we away! To weep for what must be Is fruitless!

[_They depart._]

MEDEA. O my babes, my little babes!

GORA _enters quickly._

GORA. Come, calm thyself, nor grant to these thy foes The joy of seeing how they've conquered thee!

MEDEA (_flinging herself upon the ground_).

Conquered I am, at last, made nothing worth, Trampled beneath my foes' triumphant feet! They flee me, flee me! Mine own children flee me!

GORA (_bending over her_).

Thou must not die!

MEDEA. Nay, let me die! My babes, My little babes!