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._)
ACT III
_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;
Pirithoues 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._]
[Illustration: MEDEA From the Grillparzer Monument at Vienna]
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!
ACT IV
_The outer court of _CREON’S _palace, as in the preceding act. It is twilight._ MEDEA lies prone upon the steps that lead to her apartments; _GORA_ is standing before her._
GORA. Up, Medea, speak!
Why liest thou there so silent, staring Blindly before thee? Rise, and speak! O, help our sore distress!
MEDEA. My babes! My babes!
GORA. Forth must we flee ere night shall fall, And already the twilight draweth down. Up! Rouse thee, and gird thee for flight! Swiftly they come to slay!
MEDEA. Alas, my children!
GORA. Nay, up! I say, unhappy one, Nor kill me with thy cries of woe! Hadst thou but heeded when I warned, Still should we be at home
In Colchis, safe; thy kinsmen yet Were living; all were well with us. Rise up! What use are tears? Come, rise!
[MEDEA _drags herself half up and kneels on the steps._]
MEDEA. ‘Twas so I knelt, ’twas so I lay And stretched my hands for pity out To mine own children; begged and wept And prayed for one, for only one
Of my dear children! Death itself Were not so bitter, as to leave
One of them here!–But to have none–! And neither came! They turned away With terror on their baby lips,
And fled for comfort to the breast Of her–my bitterest enemy!
[_She springs up suddenly._]
But he,–he laughed to see, and she Did laugh as well!
GORA. O, woe is me!
O, woe and heavy sorrow!
MEDEA. O gods, is this your vengeance, then, Your retribution? All for love
I followed him, as wife should e’er Follow her lord. My father died,
But was it I that slew him? No! My brother fell. Was’t, then, my hand That dealt the stroke? I’ve wept for them With heavy mourning, poured hot tears To serve as sad libation for
Their resting-place so far away! Ye gods! These woes so measureless That I have suffered at your hands– Call ye these justice,–retribution?
GORA. Thou didst leave thine own– Thine own desert thee now!
MEDEA. Then will I visit punishment On them, as Heaven on me!
There shall no deed of wickedness In all the wide world scathless go! Leave vengeance to my hand, O gods above!
GORA. Nay, think how thou mayst save thyself; All else forget!
MEDEA. What fear is this
That makes thy heart so craven-soft? First thou wert grim and savage, spak’st Fierce threats of vengeance, now art full Of fears and trembling!
GORA. Let me be!
That moment when I saw thy babes Flee their own mother’s yearning arms, Flee from the arms of her that bare And reared them, then I knew at last ‘Twas the gods’ hand had struck thee down! Then brake my heart, my courage sank! These babes, whom it was all my joy To tend and rear, had been the last Of all the royal Colchian line,
On whom I still could lavish all My love for my far fatherland.
Long since, my love for thee was dead; But in these babes I seemed to see Again my homeland, thy dear sire, Thy murdered brother, all the line Of princely Colchians,–ay, thyself, As once thou wert,–and art no more! So, all my thought was how to shield And rear these babes; I guarded them E’en as the apple of mine eye,
And now–
MEDEA. They have repaid thy love
As thanklessness doth e’er repay!
GORA. Chide not the babes! They’re innocent!
MEDEA. How, innocent? And flee their mother Innocent? They are Jason’s babes, Like him in form, in heart, and in My bitter hate! If I could hold them here, Their life or death depending on my hand, E’en on this hand I reach out, so, and one Swift stroke sufficed to slay them, bring to naught All that they were, or are, or e’er can be,– Look! they should be no more!
GORA. O, woe to thee,
Cruel mother, who canst hate those little babes Thyself didst bear!
MEDEA. What hopes have they, what hopes? If here they tarry with their sire, That sire so base and infamous,
What shall their lot be then? The children of this latest bed
Will scorn them, do despite to them And to their mother, that wild thing From distant Colchis’ strand!
Their lot will be to serve as slaves; Or else their anger, gnawing deep And ever deeper at their hearts,
Will make them bitter, hard, Until they grow to hate themselves. For, if misfortune often is begot By crime, more often far are wicked deeds The offspring of misfortune!–What have they To live for, then? I would my sire Had slain me long, long years agone When I was small, and had not yet Drunk deep of woe, as now I do–
Thought heavy thoughts, as now!
GORA. Thou tremblest! What dost think to do?
MEDEA. That I must forth, is sure; what else May chance ere that, I cannot see. My heart leaps up, when I recall
The foul injustice I have borne, And glows with fierce revenge! No deed So dread or awful but I would
Put hand to it!–
He loves these babes,
Forsooth, because he sees in them His own self mirrored back again, Himself–his idol!–Nay, he ne’er Shall have them, shall not!–Nor will I! I hate them!
GORA. Come within! Nay, why
Wouldst tarry here?
MEDEA. All empty is that house,
And all deserted! Desolation broods Upon those silent walls, and all is dead Within, save bitter memories and grief!
GORA. Look! They are coming who would drive us hence. Come thou within!
MEDEA. Thou saidst the Argonauts
Found each and every one a grave unblest, The wages of their treachery and sin?
GORA. Ay, sooth, and such a grave shall Jason find!
MEDEA. He shall, I promise thee, he shall, indeed! Hylas was swallowed in a watery grave; The gloomy King of Shades holds Theseus bound; And how was that Greek woman called–the one That on her own blood bloody vengeance took? How was she called, then? Speak!
GORA. I do not know
What thou dost mean.
MEDEA. Althea was her name!
GORA. She who did slay her son
MEDEA. The very same!
How came it, then? Tell me the tale once more.
GORA. Unwitting, in the chase, he had struck down Her brother.
MEDEA. Him alone? He did not slay
Her father, too? Nor fled his mother’s arms, Nor thrust her from him, spurned her scornfully? And yet she struck him dead–that mighty man, Grim Meleager, her own son! And she– She was a Greek! Althea was her name. Well, when her son lay dead–?
GORA. Nay, there the tale
Doth end.
MEDEA. Doth end! Thou’rt right, for death ends all!
GORA. Why stand we here and talk?
MEDEA. Dost think that I
Lack courage for the venture? Hark! I swear By the high gods, if he had giv’n me both My babes–But no! If I could take them hence To journey with me, at his own behest,
If I could love them still, as deep as now I hate them, if in all this lone, wide world One single thing were left me that was not Poisoned, or brought in ruin on my head– Perchance I might go forth e’en now in peace And leave my vengeance in the hands of Heaven. But no! It may not be!
They name me cruel
And wanton, but I was not ever so; Though I can feel how one may learn to be. For dread and awful thoughts do shape themselves Within my soul; I shudder–yet rejoice Thereat! When all is finished–Gora, hither!
GORA. What wouldst thou?
MEDEA. Come to me!
GORA. And why?
MEDEA. Come hither!
See! There they lay, the babes–ay, and the bride, Bleeding, and dead! And he, the bridegroom, stood And looked and tore his hair! A fearful sight And ghastly!
GORA. Heaven forfend! What mean these words?
MEDEA. Ha, ha! Thou’rt struck with terror then, at last? Nay, ’tis but empty words that I did speak. My old, fierce will yet lives, but all my strength Is vanished. Oh, were I Medea still–! But no, I am no more! O Jason, why, Why hast thou used me so? I sheltered thee, Saved thee, and gave thee all my heart to keep; All that was mine, I flung away for thee! Why wilt thou cast me off, why spurn my love, Why drive the kindly spirits from my heart And set fierce thoughts of vengeance in their place? I dream of vengeance, when I have no more The power to wreak revenge! The charms I had From my own mother, that grim Colchian queen, From Hecate, that bound dark gods to me To do my bidding, I have buried them, Ay, and for love of thee!–have sunk them deep In the dim bosom of our mother Earth; The ebon wand, the veil of bloody hue, Gone!–and I stand here helpless, to my foes No more a thing of terror, but of scorn!
GORA. Then speak not of them if they’ll serve thee not!
MEDEA. I know well where they lie; For yonder on the plashy ocean-strand I coffined them and sank them deep in earth. ‘Tis but to toss away a little mold, And they are mine! But in my inmost soul I shudder when I think on such a venture, And on that blood-stained Fleece. Methinks the ghosts Of father, brother, brood upon their grave And will not let them go. Dost thou recall How on the pavement lay my old, gray sire Weeping for his dead son, and cursing loud His daughter? But lord Jason swung the Fleece High o’er his head, with fierce, triumphant shouts! ‘Twas then I swore revenge upon this traitor Who first did slay my best-beloved, now