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!