The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries Volume Vi Part 37

Tell her, who is so like thee, she must come.

GORA. Ah, if she were like me, thou wouldst not speak In such imperious wise! I promise thee That she shall know of it, and to thy dole!

JASON. I would have speech with her.

GORA. Go in!

JASON. Not I!

'Tis she that shall come forth. Go thou within And tell her so!

GORA. Well, well, I go, if but To rid me of the sight of you, my lords; Ay, and I'll bear your summons, but I know Full well she will not come, for she is weak And feels her sickness all too grievously.

[_She goes into the palace._]

KING. Not one day longer will I suffer her To stay in Corinth. This old dame but now Gave utterance to the dark and fell designs On which yon woman secretly doth brood.

Methinks her presence is a constant threat.

Thy doubts, I hope, are laid to rest at last?

JASON. Fulfil, O King, thy sentence on my wife!

She can no longer tarry where I am, So, let her go; the sentence is not harsh.

Forsooth, though I am less to blame than she, My lot is bitt'rer, harder far than hers.

She but returns to that grim wilderness Where she was born, and, like a restive colt From whom the galling yoke is just removed, Will rush to freedom, and become once more Untamed and stubborn.

But my place is here; Here must I sit and while away the days In meek inaction, burdened with the scorn And scoffing of mankind, mine only task Dully to muse upon my vanished past.

KING. Thou wilt be great and famous yet again, Believe me. Like the bow which, once set free From the fierce strain, doth speed the arrow swift And straight unto its mark, whenso the hand Is loosed that bent it, so wilt thou spring back And be thyself again, once she is gone.

JASON. Naught feel I in my breast to feed such hopes!

Lost is my name, my fame; I am no more Than Jason's shadow, not that prince himself.

KING. The world, my son, is not so harsh as thou: An older man's misstep is sin and crime; The youth's, a misstep only, which he may Retrace, and mend his error. All thy deeds In Colchis, when thou went a hot-head boy, Will be forgot, if thou wilt show thyself Henceforth a man.

JASON. O, might I trust thy words, I could be happy once again!

KING. Let her But leave thy side, and thou wilt say I'm right.

Before the Amphictyons' judgment-seat I'll go And speak for thee, defend thy righteous cause, And prove that it was she alone, Medea, Who did those horrid deeds wherewith thou'rt charged, Prove her the wanton, her the darksome witch.

Lifted shall be the doom of banishment From off thy brow. If not, then thou shalt rise In all thy stubborn strength, and to the breeze Unfurl the glorious banner of pure gold Which thou didst bring from earth's most distant land, And, like a rushing torrent, all the youth Of Greece will stream to serve thee once again And rally 'round thy standard to oppose All foes that come, rally 'round thee, now purged Of all suspicion, starting life anew, The glorious hope of Greece, and of the Fleece The mighty hero!--Thou hast got it still?

JASON. The Fleece?

KING. Ay.

JASON. Nay, not I.

KING. And yet thy wife Bore it away from old King Pelias' house.

JASON. Then she must have it still.

KING. If so, then she Shall straightway yield it up, perforce. It is The pledge and symbol of thy power to come.

Ay, thou shalt yet be strong and great again, Thou only son of my old friend! A king Am I, and have both wealth and power, the which With mine own daughter's spouse I'll gladly share.

JASON. And I will go to claim the heritage My fathers left me, of that false man's son That keeps it from me. For I, too, am rich, Could I but have my due.

KING. Peace! Look, she comes Who still doth vex us. But our task is brief.

MEDEA _comes out of the palace, attended by_ GORA.

MEDEA. What wouldst thou with me?

KING. I did send thee late Some slaves to speak my will, whom thou didst drive With harsh words forth, and didst demand to hear From mine own lips whate'er I had to say, What my commands and what thou hadst to do.

MEDEA. Say on!

KING. Naught strange or new have I to tell.

I would but speak once more the doom I set Upon thy head, and add thereto that thou Must forth today.

MEDEA. And why today?

KING. The threats That thou halt uttered 'gainst my daughter's life-- For those against mine own I do not care: The savage moods that thou of late hast shown, All these do warn me how thy presence here Bodes ill. Wherefore, today thou must begone!

MEDEA. Give me my babes, and I will go--perhaps!

KING. Nay, no "Perhaps!" Thou goest! But the babes Stay here!

MEDEA. How? Mine own babes? But I forget To whom I speak. Let me have speech with him, My husband, standing there.

KING. Nay, hear her not!

MEDEA (_to _JASON).

I pray thee, let me speak with thee!

JASON. Well, well, So be it, then, that thou may'st see I have No fear of any words of thine to me.

(_To the_ KING.)

Leave us, my lord! I'll hear what she would say.

KING. I go, but I am fearful. She is sly And cunning! [_He departs._]

MEDEA. So, he's gone! No stranger now Is here to vex us, none to come between Husband and wife, and, what our hearts do feel, That we can speak out clear.--Say first, my lord, What are thy plans, thy wishes?

JASON. Thou dost know.

MEDEA. I guess thy will, but all thy secret thoughts I know not.

JASON. Be contented with the first, For they are what decide.

MEDEA. Then I must go?