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, c