Chapter XI: Act II

_A chamber in_ CREON'S _royal palace at Corinth_. CREUSA _is discovered seated, while_ MEDEA _occupies a low stool before her, and holds a lyre in her arm. She is clad in the Greek fashion._

CREUSA. Now pluck this string--the second--this one here.

MEDEA. So, this way?

CREUSA. Nay, thy fingers more relaxed.

MEDEA. I cannot.

CREUSA. 'Tis not hard, if thou'lt but try.

MEDEA. I have tried, patiently; but 'tis no use!

[_She lays the lyre aside and rises._]

Were it a spear-haft, or the weapons fierce
Of the bloody hunt, these hands were quick enough.

[_She raises her right hand and gazes at it reproachfully._]

Rebellious fingers! I would punish them!

CREUSA. Perverse one! When my heart was filled with joy
At thinking how 'twould gladden Jason's heart
To hear this song from thee!

MEDEA. Ay, thou art right.
I had forgot that. Let me try once more.
The song will please him, think'st thou, truly
please him?

CREUSA. Nay, never doubt it. 'Tis the song he sang
When he dwelt here with us in boyhood days.
Each time I heard it, joyfully I sprang
To greet him, for it meant he was come home.

MEDEA (_eagerly_).

Teach me the song again!

CREUSA. Come, listen, then.
'Tis but a short one, nor so passing sweet;
But then--he knew to sing it with such grace,
Such joy, such lordly pride--ay, almost scorn!

[_She sings._]

"Ye gods above, ye mighty gods,
Anoint my head, I pray;
Make strong my heart to bear my part
Right kingly in the fray,
To smite all foes, and steal the heart
Of all fair maids away!"

MEDEA. Yea, yea, all these the gods bestowed on him!

CREUSA. All what?

MEDEA. These gifts, of which the song doth tell.

CREUSA. What gifts?

MEDEA. "To smite all foes, and steal the heart
Of all fair maids away!"

CREUSA. Is't so? I never thought on that before;
I did but sing the words I heard him sing.

MEDEA. 'Twas so he stood on Colchis' hostile strand;
Before his burning glance our warriors cringed,
And that same glance kindled a fatal fire
In the soft breast of one unhappy maid;
She struggled, fled--until at last those flames,
So long hid deep within her heart, burst forth,
And rest and joy and peace to ashes burned
In one fierce holocaust of smoky flame.
'Twas so he stood, all shining strength and grace,
A hero, nay, a god--and drew his victim
And drew and drew, until the victim came
To its own doom; and then he flung it down
Careless, and there was none would take it up.

CREUSA. Art thou his wife, and speak'st such things of him?

MEDEA. Thou know'st him not; I know his inmost soul.--
In all the wide world there is none but he,
And all things else are naught to him but tools
To shape his deeds. He harbors no mean thoughts
Of paltry gain, not he; yet all his thoughts
Are of himself alone. He plays a game
with Fortune--now his own, and now another's.
If bright Fame beckon, he will slay a man
And do it gaily. Will he have a wife?
He goes and takes one. And though hearts should break
And lives be wasted--so he have his will,
What matters it to him? Oh, he does naught
That is not right--but right is what he wants!
Thou knowest him not; I've probed his inmost soul.
And when I think on all that he has wrought,
Oh, I could see him die, and laugh the while!

CREUSA. Farewell!

MEDEA. Thou goest?

CREUSA. Can I longer stay
To list such words?--Ye gods! to hear a wife
Revile her husband thus!

MEDEA. She should speak truth,
And mine is such an one as I have said.

CREUSA. By Heaven, if I were wedded to a man,
E'en one so base and vile as thou hast named--
'Though Jason is _not_ so--and had I babes,
His gift, each bearing in his little face
His father's likeness, oh, I would love them dear,
Though they should slay me!

MEDEA. Ay, an easy task
To set, but hard to do.

CREUSA. And yet, methinks,
If easier, 'twere less sweet.--Have thou thy way
And say whate'er thou wilt; but I must go.
First thou dost charm my heart with noble words
And seek'st my aid to win his love again;
But now thou breakest forth in hate and scorn.
I have seen many evils among men,
But worst of all these do I count a heart
That knows not to forgive. So, fare thee well!
Learn to be better, truer!

MEDEA. Art thou angry

CREUSA. Almost.

MEDEA. Alas, thou wilt not give me up,
Thou, too? Thou wilt not leave me? Be my help,
My friend, my kind protector!

CREUSA. Now thou'rt gentle,
Yet, but a moment since, so full of hate!

MEDEA. Hate for myself, but only love for him!

CREUSA. Dost thou love Jason?

MEDEA. Should I else be here?

CREUSA. I've pondered that, but cannot understand.--
Yet, if thou truly lov'st him, I will take thee
Back to my heart again, and show thee means
Whereby thou mayst regain his love.--I know
Those bitter moods of his, and have a charm
To scatter the dark clouds. Come, to our task!
I marked this morning how his face was sad
And gloomy. Sing that song to him; thou'lt see
How swift his brow will clear. Here is the lyre;
I will not lay it down till thou canst sing
The song all through. [_She seats herself._]
Nay, come! Why tarriest there

MEDEA. I gaze on thee, and gaze on thee again,
And cannot have my fill of thy sweet face.
Thou gentle, virtuous maid, as fair in soul
As body, with a heart as white and pure
As are thy snowy draperies! Like a dove,
A pure, white dove with shining, outspread wings,
Thou hoverest o'er this life, nor yet so much
As dipp'st thy wing in this vile, noisome slough
Wherein we wallow, struggling to get free,
Each from himself. Send down one kindly beam
From out thy shining heaven, to fall in pity
Upon my bleeding breast, distraught with pain;
And all those ugly scars that grief and hate
And evil fortune e'er have written there,
Oh, cleanse thou these away with thy soft hands,
And leave thine own dear picture in their place!
That strength, that ever was my proudest boast
From youth, once tested, proved but craven weakness.
Oh, teach me how to make my weakness strong!

[_She seats herself on the low stool at CREUSA's feet._]

Here to thy feet for refuge will I fly,
And pour my tale of suffering in thine ear;
And thou shalt teach me all that I must do.
Like some meek handmaid will I follow thee,
Will pace before the loom from early morn,
Nay, set my hand to all those lowly tasks
Which maids of noble blood would scorn to touch
In Colchis, as but fit for toiling serfs,
Yet here they grace a queen. Oh, I'll forget
My sire was Colchis' king, and I'll forget
My ancestors were gods, and I'll forget
The past, and all that threatens still!

[_She springs up and leaves _CREUSA's _side._]

But no!
That can I not forget!

CREUSA (_following her_).

Why so distressed?
Men have forgotten many an evil deed
That chanced long since, ay, even the gods themselves
Remember not past sorrows.

MEDEA (_embracing her_).

Say'st thou so?
Oh, that I could believe it, could believe it!

JASON _enters._

CREUSA (_turning to him_).

Here is thy wife. See, Jason, we are friends!

JASON. 'Tis well.

MEDEA. Greetings, my lord.--She is so good,
Medea's friend and teacher she would be.

JASON. Heaven speed her task!

CREUSA. But why these sober looks?
We shall enjoy here many happy days!
I, sharing 'twixt my sire and you my love
And tender care, while thou and she, Medea,--

JASON. Medea!

MEDEA. What are thy commands, my lord?

JASON. Hast seen the children late?

MEDEA. A moment since;
They are well and happy.

JASON. Look to them again!

MEDEA. I am just come from them.

JASON. Go, go, I say!

MEDEA. If 'tis thy wish--

JASON. It is.

MEDEA. Then I obey.

[_She departs._]

CREUSA. Why dost thou bid her go? The babes are safe.

JASON. Ah..! ho, a mighty weight is rolled away
From off my soul, and I can breathe again!
Her glance doth shrivel up my very heart,
And all that bitter hate, hid deep within
My bosom, well nigh strangles me to death!

CREUSA. What words are these? Oh, ye all-righteous gods!
He speaks now even as she a moment since.
Who was it told me, wife and husband ever
Do love each other?

JASON. Ay, and so they do,
When some fair, stalwart youth hath cast his glance
Upon a maid, whom straightway he doth make
The goddess of his worship. Timidly
He seeks her eyes, to learn if haply she
Seek his as well; and when their glances meet,
His soul is glad. Then to her father straight
And to her mother goes he, as is meet,
And begs their treasure, and they give consent.
Comes then the bridal day; from far and near
Their kinsmen gather; all the town has part
In their rejoicing. Richly decked with wreaths
And dainty blossoms, to the altar then
He leads his bride; and there a rosy flush,
Of maiden shyness born, plays on her cheek
The while she trembles with a holy fear
At what is none the less her dearest wish.
Upon her head her father lays his hands
And blesses her and all her seed to come.
Such happy wooing breeds undying love
'Twixt wife and husband.--'Twas of such I dreamed.
Alas, it came not! What have I done, ye gods!
To be denied what ye are wont to give
Even to the poorest? Why have I alone
No refuge from the buffets of the world
At mine own hearth, no dear companion there,
My own, in truth, my own in plighted troth?

CREUSA. Thou didst not woo thy wife as others, then?
Her father did not raise his hand to bless?

JASON. He raised it, ay, but armèd with a sword;
And 'twas no blessing, but a curse he spake.
But I--I had a swift and sweet revenge!
His only son is dead, and he himself
Lies dumb in the grave. His curse alone lives still--
Or so it seems.

CREUSA. Alas, how strange to think
Of all the change a few brief years have wrought!
Thou wert so soft and gentle, and art now
So stern. But I am still the selfsame maid
As then, have still the selfsame hopes and fears,
And what I then thought right, I think right still,
What then I blamed, cannot think blameless now.--
But thou art changed.

JASON. Ay, thou hast hit the truth!
The real misfortune in a hapless lot
Is this: that man is to himself untrue.
Here one must show him master, there must cringe
And bow the knee; here Justice moves a hair,
And there a grain; and, at his journey's end,
He stands another man than he who late
Set out upon that journey. And his loss
Is twofold--for the world has passed him by
In scorn, and his own self-respect is dead.
Naught have I done that in itself was bad,
Yet have had evil hopes, bad wishes, ay,
Unholy aspirations; and have stood
And looked in silence, while another sinned;
Or here have willed no evil, yet joined hands
With sin, forgetful how one wicked deed
Begets another.--Now at last I stand,
A sea of evils breaking all about,
And cannot say, "My hand hath done no wrong!"--
O happy Youth, couldst thou forever stay!
O joyous Fancy, blest Forgetfulness,
Time when each moment cradles some great deed
And buries it! How, in a swelling tide
Of high adventure, I disported me,
Cleaving the mighty waves with stalwart breast!
But manhood comes, with slow and sober steps;
And Fancy flees away, while naked Truth
Creeps soft to fill its place and brood upon
Full many a care. No more the present seems
A fair tree, laden down with luscious fruits,
'Neath whose cool shadows rest and joy are found,
But is become a tiny seedling which,
When buried in the earth, will sprout and bud
And bloom, and bear a future of its own.
What shall thy task in life be? Where thy home?
What of thy wife and babes? What thine own fate,
And theirs?--Such constant musings tantalize
the soul. [_He seats himself._]

CREUSA. What should'st thou care for such? 'Tis all decreed,
All ordered for thee.

JASON. Ordered? Ay, as when
Over the threshold one thrusts forth a bowl
Of broken meats, to feed some begging wretch!
I am Prince Jason. Spells not that enough
Of sorrow? Must I ever henceforth sit
Meek at some stranger's board, or beg my way,
My little babes about me, praying pity
From each I meet? My sire was once a king,
And so am I; yet who would care to boast
He is like Jason? Still--[_He rises._]
I passed but now
Down through the busy market-place and through
Yon wide-wayed city. Dost remember how
I strode in my young pride through those same streets
What time I came to take farewell of thee
Long since, ere sailed the Argo? How the folk
Came thronging, surging, how each street was choked
With horses, chariots, men--a dazzling blaze
Of color? How the eager gazers climbed
Up on the house-tops, swarmed on every tower,
And fought for places as they would for gold?
The air rang with the cymbals' brazen crash
And with the shouts of all that mighty throng
Crying, "Hail, Jason!" Thick they crowded round
That gallant band attired in rich array,
Their shining armor gleaming in the sun,
The least of them a hero and a king,
And in their midst the leader they adored.
I was the man that captained them, that brought
Them safe to Greece again; and it was I
That all this folk did greet with loud acclaim.--
I trod these selfsame streets an hour ago,
But no eye sought me, greeting heard I none;
Only, the while I stood and gazed about,
I heard one rudely grumbling that I had
No right to block the way, and stand and stare.

CREUSA. Thou wilt regain thy proud place once again,
If thou but choose.

JASON. Nay, all my hopes are dead;
My fight is fought, and I am down, to rise
No more.

CREUSA. I have a charm will save thee yet.

JASON. Ay, all that thou would'st say, I know before:
Undo the past, as though it ne'er had been.
I never left my fatherland, but stayed
With thee and thine in Corinth, never saw
The Golden Fleece, nor stepped on Colchis' strand,
Ne'er saw that woman that I now call wife!
Send thou her home to her accursed land,
Cause her to take with her all memory
That she was ever here.--Do thou but this,
And I will be a man again, and dwell
With men.

CREUSA. Is that thy charm? I know a better;
A simple heart, I mean, a mind at peace.

JASON. Ah, thou art good! Would I could learn this peace
Of thee!

CREUSA. To all that choose, the gods will give it.
Thou hadst it once, and canst have yet again.

JASON. Dost thou think often on our happy youth?

CREUSA. Ay, many a time, and gladly.

JASON. How we were
One heart, one soul?

CREUSA. I made thee gentler, thou
Didst give me courage.--Dost remember how
I set thy helm upon my head?

JASON. And how
Because it was too large, thy tiny hands
Did hold it up, the while it rested soft
Upon thy golden curls? Creusa, those
Were happy days!

CREUSA. Dost mind thee how my father
Was filled with joy to see it, and, in jest,
Did name us bride and bridegroom?

JASON. Ay--but that
Was not to be.

CREUSA. Like many another hope
That disappoints us.--Still, what matters it?
We mean to be no less good friends, I trust!

[MEDEA _reënters._]

MEDEA. I've seen the children. They are safe.

JASON (_absently_).

'Tis well.

(_Continuing his revery._)

All those fair spots our happy youth once knew,
Linked to my memory with slender threads,
All these I sought once more, when first I came
Again to Corinth, and I cooled my breast
And dipped my burning lips in that bright spring
Of my lost childhood. Once again, methought,
I drove my chariot through the market-place,
Guiding my fiery steeds where'er I would,
Or, wrestling with some fellow of the crowd,
Gave blow for blow, while thou didst stand to watch,
Struck dumb with terror, filled with angry fears,
Hating, for my sake, all who raised a hand
Against me. Or again I seemed to be
Within the solemn temple, where we knelt
Together, there, and there alone, forgetful
Each of the other, our soft-moving lips
Up-sending to the gods from our two breasts
A single heart, made one by bonds of love.

CREUSA. Dost thou remember all these things so well?

JASON. They are the cup from which, in greedy draughts,
I drink the only comfort left me now.

MEDEA (_who has gone silently up-stage and taken up again the discarded lyre_).

Jason, I know a song!

JASON (_not noticing her_).

And then the tower!
Know'st thou that tower upon the sea-strand there,
Where by thy father thou didst stand and weep,
What time I climbed the Argo's side, to sail
On that far journey? For thy falling tears
I had no eyes, my heart but thirsted deep
For deeds of prowess. Lo, there came a breeze
That loosed the wimple bound about thy locks
And dropped it on the waves. Straightway I sprang
Into the sea, and caught it up, to keep
In memory of thee when far away.

CREUSA. Hast thou it still?

JASON. Nay, think how many years
Are gone since then, and with them this, thy token,
Blown far by some stray breeze.

MEDEA. I know a song!

JASON (_ignoring her_).

Then didst thou cry to me, "Farewell, my brother!"

CREUSA. And now my cry is, "Brother, welcome home!"

MEDEA (_plaintively_).

Jason, I know a song.

CREUSA. She knows a song
That thou wert wont to sing. I pray thee, listen,
And she will sing it thee.

JASON. A song? Well, well!
Where was I, then?--From childhood I was wont
To dream and dream, and babble foolishly
Of things that were not and could never be.
That habit clung to me, and mocks me now.
For, as the youth lives ever in the future,
So the grown man looks alway to the past,
And, young or old, we know not how to live
Within the present. In my dreams I was
A mighty hero, girded for great deeds,
And had a loving wife, and gold, and much
Goodly possessions, and a peaceful home
Wherein slept babes of mine.

(_To_ MEDEA.)

What is it thou
Wouldst have with me?

CREUSA. She asks to sing a song
That thou in youth wert wont to sing to us.

JASON (_to_ MEDEA).

And _thou_ hast learned it?

MEDEA. I have done my best.

JASON. Go to! Dost think to give me back my youth,
Or happiness to win again for me,
By singing me some paltry, childish tune?
Give o'er! We will not part, but live together;
That is our fate, it seems, as things have chanced;
But let me bear no word of foolish songs
Or suchlike nonsense!

CREUSA. Let her sing, I pray.
She hath conned it o'er and o'er, to know it well,
Indeed she hath!

JASON. Well, sing it, sing it then!

CREUSA (_to _MEDEA).

So, pluck the second string. Thou know'st it still?

MEDEA (_drawing her hand across her brow as if in pain_).

I have forgotten!

JASON. Ay, said I not so?
She cannot sing it.--Other songs are hers,
Like that which, with her magic arts, she sang
Unto the dragon, that he fell asleep.
That was no pure, sweet strain, like this of thine!

CREUSA (_whispering in _MEDEA's _ear_).

"Ye gods above, ye mighty gods--."

MEDEA (_repeating it after her_).

"Ye gods above--"
O gods in heaven, O righteous, mighty gods!

[_She lets the lyre fall to the ground, and clasps both hands before her eyes._]

CREUSA. She weeps! Canst be so stern and hard?

JASON (_holding_ CREUSA _back from_ MEDEA).

Thou art
A child, and canst not know us, what we are!
The hand she feels upon her is the gods',
That reacheth her e'en here, with bloody gripe!
Then strive not thou to balk the gods' just doom.
O, hadst thou seen her in the dragon's cave,
Seen how she leaped to meet that serpent grim,
Shot forth the poisonous arrows of her tongue,
And darted hate and death from blazing eyes,
Then were thy bosom steeled against her tears!--
Take thou the lyre, sing thou to me that song,
And exorcise the hateful demon here
That strangles, chokes me! Thou canst sing the song,
Mayhap, though she cannot.

CREUSA. Ay, that I will.

[_She stoops to take up the lyre._]

MEDEA (_gripping_ CREUSA's _arm with one hand and holding her back, while with the other she herself picks up the lyre_).

Let be!

CREUSA. Right gladly, if thou'lt play.

MEDEA. Not I!

JASON. Thou wilt not give it her?

MEDEA. No!

JASON. Nor to me?

MEDEA. No!

JASON (_striding up to her and grasping at the lyre_).

I will take it, then!

MEDEA (_without moving from her place, but drawing the lyre away from him_).

No!

JASON. Give it me!

MEDEA (_crushing the lyre, so that it breaks with a loud, cracking sound_).

Here, take it! Broken! Thy fair lyre is broken!

[_She flings the pieces down in front of_ CREUSA.]

CREUSA (_starting back in horror_).

Dead!

MEDEA (_looking swiftly about her as in a daze_).

Dead? Who speaks of death? I am alive!

[_She stands there violently agitated and staring dazedly before her. A trumpet-blast sounds without._]

JASON. Ha, what is that?

(_To_ MEDEA.)

Why standest silent there?
Thou'lt rue this moment, that I know full well!

[_Another trumpet-blast without. The _KING_ appears suddenly at the door._]

JASON (_hurrying to meet him_).

What means that warlike trumpet-blast without?

KING. Unhappy man, canst ask?

JASON. I do, my lord!

KING. The stroke that I so feared is fall'n at last.--
Before my palace gates a herald stands,
Sent hither from the Amphictyons' holy seat,
Seeking for news of thee and of thy wife,
Crying to Heaven the doom of banishment
On both!

JASON. This, too?

KING. So is it--. Peace, he comes.

[_The palace doors swing open and a_ HERALD _enters, followed by two trumpeters and, at a little distance, by a numerous suite._]

HERALD. The blessing of the gods upon this house!

KING (_solemnly_).

Who art thou? On what errand art thou come?

HERALD. A herald of the gods am I, sent forth
From the ancient council of the Amphictyons
That speaks its judgments in that holy town
Of freedom, Delphi. And I follow close,
With cries of vengeance, on the guilty tracks
Of those false kinsmen of King Pelias,
Who ruled Iolcos, ere he fell in death.

KING. Thou seek'st the guilty? Seek in his own house,
'Mongst his own children seek them--but not here!

HERALD. Here have I found them. Here I'll speak my charge:
Thou art accursed, Jason, thou, and she,
Thy wife! With evil magic are ye charged,
Wherewith thine uncle darkly ye did slay.

JASON. A lie! Naught know I of mine uncle's death!

HERALD. Then ask thy wife, there; she will know, perchance.

JASON. Was 't she that slew him?

HERALD. Not with her own hand,
But by those magic arts ye know so well,
Which ye have brought here from that foreign land.
For, when the king fell sick--perchance e'en then
A victim, for the signs of his disease
Were strange and dreadful--to Medea then
His daughters came, and begged for healing balms
From her who knew so well to heal. And she
Gave swift consent, and followed them.

JASON. Nay, hold!
She went not! I forbade it, and she stayed.

HERALD. The first time, yes. But when, unknown to thee,
They came again, she companied them back,
Only demanding, if she healed the king,
The Golden Fleece in payment for her aid;
It was a hateful thing to her, she said;
And boded evil. And those foolish maids,
All joyful, promised. So she came with them
To the king's chamber, where he lay asleep.
Straightway she muttered strange and secret words
Above him, and his sleep grew ever deep
And deeper. Next, to let the bad blood out,
She bade them ope his veins. And even this
They did, whereat his panting breath grew still
And tranquil; then the gaping wounds were bound,
And those sad maids were glad to think him healed.
Forth went Medea then, as she hath said;
His daughters, too, departed, for he slept.
But, on a sudden, came a fearful cry
From out his chamber! Swift his daughters sped
To aid him, and--oh, ghastly, horrible!--
There on the pavement lay the aged king,
His body twisted in a hideous knot,
The cloths that bound his veins all torn away
From off his gaping wounds, whence, in a black
And sluggish stream, his blood came welling forth.
He lay beside the altar, where the Fleece
For long was wont to hang--and that was gone!
But, in that selfsame hour, thy wife was seen,
The golden gaud upon her shoulder flung,
Swift hasting through the night.

MEDEA (_dully, staring straight before her_).

'Twas my reward!--
I shudder still, when'er I think upon
The old man's furious rage!

HERALD. Now, that no longer
Such horrors bide here, poisoning this land
With their destructive breath, I here proclaim
The solemn doom of utter banishment
On Jason, the Thessalian, Aeson's son,
Spouse of a wicked witch-wife, and himself
An arrant villain; and I drive him forth
From out this land of Greece, wherein the gods
Are wont to walk with men; to exile hence,
To flight and wandering I drive him forth,
And with him, this, his wife, ay, and his babes,
The offspring of his marriage-bed. Henceforth
No rood of this, his fatherland, be his,
No share in her protection or her rights!

[_He raises his hand and three times makes solemn proclamation, turning to different quarters._]

Banished are Jason and Medea!
Medea and Jason are banished!
Banished are Jason and Medea!

And whoso harbors him, or gives him aid,
After three days and nights are come and gone,
Upon that man I here declare the doom
Of death, if he be burgher; if a king,
Or city-state, then war shall be proclaimed.
So runs the Amphictyons' reverend decree,
The which I here proclaim, as is most meet,
That each may know its terms, and so beware.--
The blessing of the gods upon this house!

[_He turns to depart._]

JASON. Why stand ye there, ye walls, and crash not down
To save this king the pains of slaying me?

KING. A moment yet, sir Herald. Hear this, too.

[_He turns to_ JASON.]

Think'st thou I rue the promise I have made?
If I could think thee guilty, ay, wert thou
My very son, I'd give thee up to these
That seek thee. But thou art not! Wherefore, I
Will give thee shelter. Stay thou here.--Who dares
To question Creon's friend, whose innocence
Stands pledged by mine own words? Who dares, I say,
To lay a hand upon my son to be?
Yea, Herald, on my son to be, the spouse
Of this my daughter! 'Twas my dearest wish
In happy days long past, when Fortune smiled;
Now, when he's compassed round by stormy waves
Of evil fortune, it shall come to pass.
Ay, she shall be thy wife, and thou shalt stay
Here, with thy father. And I will myself
Make answer for it to the Amphictyons.
Who now will cry him guilty, when the king
Hath sworn him free from blame, and given him
The hand of his own daughter?

(_To the_ HERALD.)

Take my words
To those that sent thee hither. Go in peace!
The blessing of the gods be on thy head!

[_The_ HERALD _goes._]

KING (_turning to_ MEDEA).

This woman, whom the wilderness spewed up
To be a bane to thee and all good men,
Her that hath wrought the crimes men lay to thee,
Her do I banish forth from out this land
And all its borders. Death shall be her lot
And portion, if the morrow find her here!

(_To_ MEDEA.)

Depart from out my fathers' pious town,
And make the air thou poisonest pure again!

MEDEA. Is that thy sentence? Falls it, then, on me,
And me alone? And yet I say to thee,
O king, I did it not!

KING. Nay, thou hast done
Enough of evil since he saw thee first.
Away with thee from out my house and town!

MEDEA (_turning to _JASON).

Say, must I go? So be it--but follow me!
We bear the blame together, let us bear
The punishment as well! Dost thou not know
The ancient proverb: "None shall die alone?"
One home for both, one body--and one death!
Long since, when Death stared grimly in our eyes,
We sware that oath. Now keep it! Follow me!

JASON. Nay, touch me not! Begone from me, thou curse
Of all my days, who hast robbed me of my life
And happiness, from whom, when first mine eyes
Met thine, I shrank and shuddered, though I thought
Those fearful struggles in my very soul
Were but the signs of rash and foolish love.
Hence, to that wilderness that cradled thee!
Back to that bloody folk whose child thou art
In very thought and deed! But, ere thou go,
Give back to me what thou hast stol'n away,
Thou wanton! Give Prince Jason back to me!

MEDEA. Is't Jason thou desirest? Take him, then!
But who shall give Medea back to me?
Was't I that in thy homeland sought thee out?
Was't I that lured thee from thy father's house?
Was't I that forced, ay, forced my love on thee?
Was't I that wrenched thee from thy fatherland,
Made thee the butt of strangers' haughty scorn,
Or dragged thee into wantonness and crime?
Thou nam'st me Wanton?--Woe is me! I am!
Yet--how have I been wanton, and for whom?
Let these pursue me with their venomous hate,
Ay, drive me forth and slay me! 'Tis their right,
Because I am in truth a dreadful thing
And hateful unto them, and to myself
A deep abyss of evil, terrible!
Let all the world heap curses on my head,
Save only thee alone! Nay, thou shalt not!
'Twas thou inspiredst all these horrid deeds,
Yea, thou alone. Dost thou not call to mind
How I did clasp my hands about thy knees
That day thou bad'st me steal the Golden Fleece?
And, though I sooner far had slain myself,
Yet thou, with chilly scorn, commandedst me
To take it. Dost remember how I held
My brother in my bosom, faint to death
From that fierce stroke of thine that laid him low,
Until he tore him from his sister's arms
To 'scape thy frenzied vengeance, and leaped swift
Into the sea, to find a kinder death
Beneath its waves? Dost thou remember?--Nay,
Come here to me, and shrink not so away
To shelter thee behind that maiden there!

JASON (_coming forward_).

I hate thee,--but I fear thee not!

MEDEA. Then come!

[_She addresses him earnestly in low tones._]

Dost thou remember--Nay, look not on me
So haughtily!--how, on that very day
Before thine uncle died, his daughters went
So sorrowful and hopeless forth from me,
Because I sent them back at thy behest,
And would not aid them? Then thou cam'st, alone,
Unto my chamber, looking in mine eyes
So earnestly, as though some purpose grim,
Deep hidden in thy heart, would search my soul
To find its like therein? And how thou saidst
That they were come to me for healing balms
To cure their old, sick father? 'Twas thy wish
That I should brew a cool, refreshing draught
To cure him of his ills forevermore--
And thee as well! Hast thou forgotten that?
Nay, look at me, eye straight to eye, if thou
Dost dare!

JASON. Thou demon! Why these frantic words,
This rage against me? Why recall to life
These shadows of my dreams and make them real,
Why hold a mirror up to me wherein
Naught but thine own vile thoughts do show, and say
'Tis I that look therefrom? Why call my thoughts
From out the past to charge me with thy crimes?
Naught know I of thy plans and plottings, naught!
From the beginning I have hated thee,
I've cursed the day when first I saw thy face;
'Tis pity only held me at thy side!
But now I cast thee off forevermore
With bitter curses, e'en as all the world
Doth curse thee!

MEDEA (_throwing herself at his feet with a cry of agony_).

No! My love, my husband! No!

JASON (_roughly_).

Begone!

MEDEA. That day my old, gray father cursed
My name, thou gay'st thy promise, nevermore
To leave me, nevermore! Now keep thy word!

JASON. Thine own rash deeds have made that promise naught,
And here I give thee to thy father's curse.

MEDEA. I hate thee!--Come! Come, O my husband!

JASON. Back!

MEDEA. Come to my loving arms! 'Twas once thy wish!

JASON. Back! See, I draw my sword. I'll strike thee dead,
Unless thou yield, and go!

MEDEA (_approaching him fearlessly_).

Then strike me, strike!

CREUSA (_to_ JASON).

Hold! Let her go in peace, and harm her not!

MEDEA. Ha! Thou here, too, thou snow-white, silvery snake?
Oh, hiss no more, nor shoot thy forked tongue
With honied words upon it! Thou hast got
What thou didst wish--a husband at the last!
For this, then, didst thou show thyself so soft
And smooth-caressing, for this only wind
Thy snaky coils so close about my neck?
Oh, if I had a dagger, I would smite
Thee, and thy father, that so righteous king!
For this, then, hast thou sung those winsome songs,
Taught me to play the lyre, and tricked me out
In these rich garments?

[_She suddenly rends her mantle in twain._]

Off with you! Away
With the vile gifts of that accursed jade!

[_She turns to _JASON.]

See! As I tear this mantle here in twain,
Pressing one part upon my throbbing breast,
And cast the other from me at thy feet,
So do I rend my love, the common tie
That bound us each to each. What follows now
I cast on thee, thou miscreant, who hast spurned
The holy claims of an unhappy wife!--
Give me my children now, and let me go!

KING. The children stay with us.

MEDEA. They may not go
With their own mother?

KING. With a wanton, no!

MEDEA (_to_ JASON).

Is it thy will, too?

JASON. Ay!

MEDEA (_hastening to the door_).

Come forth, my babes!
Your mother calls you!

KING. Back!

MEDEA. 'Tis, then, thy will
That I go forth alone?--'Tis well, so be it!
I say but this, O king: Before the gray
Of evening darken, give me back my babes!
Enough for now!

(_Turning to_ CREUSA.)

But thou, who standest there
In glistering raiment, cloaking thy delight,
In thy false purity disdaining me,
I tell thee, thou wilt wring those soft, white hands
In agony, and envy me my lot,
Hard though it seemeth now!

JASON. How dar'st thou?

KING. Hence!

MEDEA. I go, but I will come again, to take
What is mine own, and bring what ye deserve.

KING. Ha! Wouldst thou threaten us before our face?
If words will not suffice--

(_To his attendants._)

Then teach ye her
How she should bear herself before a king!

MEDEA. Stand back! Who dares to block Medea's path?
Mark well, O king, this hour when I depart.
Trust me, thou never saw'st a blacker one!
Make way! I go,--and take with me revenge!

[_She goes out._]

KING. Our punishment, at least, will follow thee!

(_To_ CREUSA.)

Nay, tremble not. We'll keep thee safe from her!

CREUSA. I wonder only, whether what we do
Be right? If so, no power can work us harm!

(_The curtain falls._)