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_).