sunny; wherefore is my eventide
So dark and gloomy? Would that it were night!

[MEDEA _has brought the two children out of the tent, and now leads them
by the hand to_ JASON.]

MEDEA. See, Jason, thy two babes, who come to greet thee.
Come, children, give your sire your little hands.

[_The children draw back, and stand shyly at one side._]

JASON (_stretching out his hands yearningly toward the little group._)

Is this the end, then? Do I find myself
Husband and father of a savage brood?

MEDEA. Go, children.

ONE CHILD. Father, is it true thou art
A Greek?

JASON. And why?

CHILD. Old Gora says thou art,
And calls the Greeks bad names.

JASON. What names, my boy?

CHILD. Traitors she says they are, and cowards, too.

JASON (_to_ MEDEA).

Dost hear?

MEDEA. 'Tis Gora's foolish tales that they
Have heard, and treasured, child-like. Mark them not.

[_She kneels beside the two children, whispering in the ear now of one,
now of the other._]

JASON. I will not.

[_He rises from the grass._]

There she kneels--unhappy fate!--
Bearing two burdens, hers, and mine as well.

[_He paces up and down, then addresses_ MEDEA.]

There, leave the babes awhile, and come to me.

MEDEA (_to the children_).

Now go, and be good children. Go, I say.

[_The children go._]

JASON. Think not, Medea, I am cold and hard.
I feel thy grief as deeply as mine own.
Thou'rt a brave comrade, and dost toil as truly
As I to roll away this heavy stone
That, ever falling backwards, blocks all paths,
All roads to hope. And whether thou'rt to blame,
Or I, it matters not. What's done is done.

[_He clasps her hands in one of his, and with the other lovingly strokes
her brow._]

Thou lov'st me still, I know it well, Medea.
In thine own way, 'tis true; but yet thou lov'st me.
And not this fond glance only--all thy deeds
Tell the same tale of thine unending love.

[MEDEA _hides her face on his shoulder._]

I know how many griefs bow this dear head,
How love and pity in thy bosom sit
Enthroned.--Come, let us counsel now together
How we