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