The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 34

I hate thee,--but I fear thee not!

MEDEA. Then come!

[_She addresses him earnestly in low tones._]

Dost thou remember--Nay, look not on me So haughtily!--how, on that very day Before thine uncle died, his daughters went So sorrowful and hopeless forth from me, Because I sent them back at thy behest, And would not aid them? Then thou cam'st, alone, Unto my chamber, looking in mine eyes So earnestly, as though some purpose grim, Deep hidden in thy heart, would search my soul To find its like therein? And how thou saidst That they were come to me for healing balms To cure their old, sick father? 'Twas thy wish That I should brew a cool, refreshing draught To cure him of his ills forevermore-- And thee as well! Hast thou forgotten that?

Nay, look at me, eye straight to eye, if thou Dost dare!

JASON. Thou demon! Why these frantic words, This rage against me? Why recall to life These shadows of my dreams and make them real, Why hold a mirror up to me wherein Naught but thine own vile thoughts do show, and say 'Tis I that look therefrom? Why call my thoughts From out the past to charge me with thy crimes?

Naught know I of thy plans and plottings, naught!

From the beginning I have hated thee, I've cursed the day when first I saw thy face; 'Tis pity only held me at thy side!

But now I cast thee off forevermore With bitter curses, e'en as all the world Doth curse thee!

MEDEA (_throwing herself at his feet with a cry of agony_).

No! My love, my husband! No!

JASON (_roughly_).

Begone!

MEDEA. That day my old, gray father cursed My name, thou gay'st thy promise, nevermore To leave me, nevermore! Now keep thy word!

JASON. Thine own rash deeds have made that promise naught, And here I give thee to thy father's curse.

MEDEA. I hate thee!--Come! Come, O my husband!

JASON. Back!

MEDEA. Come to my loving arms! 'Twas once thy wish!

JASON. Back! See, I draw my sword. I'll strike thee dead, Unless thou yield, and go!

MEDEA (_approaching him fearlessly_).

Then strike me, strike!

CREUSA (_to_ JASON).

Hold! Let her go in peace, and harm her not!

MEDEA. Ha! Thou here, too, thou snow-white, silvery snake?

Oh, hiss no more, nor shoot thy forked tongue With honied words upon it! Thou hast got What thou didst wish--a husband at the last!

For this, then, didst thou show thyself so soft And smooth-caressing, for this only wind Thy snaky coils so close about my neck?

Oh, if I had a dagger, I would smite Thee, and thy father, that so righteous king!

For this, then, hast thou sung those winsome songs, Taught me to play the lyre, and tricked me out In these rich garments?

[_She suddenly rends her mantle in twain._]

Off with you! Away With the vile gifts of that accursed jade!

[_She turns to _JASON.]

See! As I tear this mantle here in twain, Pressing one part upon my throbbing breast, And cast the other from me at thy feet, So do I rend my love, the common tie That bound us each to each. What follows now I cast on thee, thou miscreant, who hast spurned The holy claims of an unhappy wife!-- Give me my children now, and let me go!

KING. The children stay with us.

MEDEA. They may not go With their own mother?

KING. With a wanton, no!

MEDEA (_to_ JASON).

Is it thy will, too?

JASON. Ay!

MEDEA (_hastening to the door_).

Come forth, my babes!

Your mother calls you!

KING. Back!

MEDEA. 'Tis, then, thy will That I go forth alone?--'Tis well, so be it!

I say but this, O king: Before the gray Of evening darken, give me back my babes!

Enough for now!

(_Turning to_ CREUSA.)

But thou, who standest there In glistering raiment, cloaking thy delight, In thy false purity disdaining me, I tell thee, thou wilt wring those soft, white hands In agony, and envy me my lot, Hard though it seemeth now!

JASON. How dar'st thou?

KING. Hence!

MEDEA. I go, but I will come again, to take What is mine own, and bring what ye deserve.

KING. Ha! Wouldst thou threaten us before our face?

If words will not suffice--

(_To his attendants._)

Then teach ye her How she should bear herself before a king!

MEDEA. Stand back! Who dares to block Medea's path?

Mark well, O king, this hour when I depart.

Trust me, thou never saw'st a blacker one!

Make way! I go,--and take with me revenge!