A mother's kiss imprint, perchance the last.
Creon: A time
Thou seek'st for treachery.290
Medea: What fraud can be devised
In one short hour?
Creon: To those on mischief bent, be sure,
The briefest time is fraught with mischief's fatal power.
Medea: Dost thou refuse me, then, one little space for tears?
Creon: Though deep-ingrafted fear would fain resist thy plea,
A single day I'll give thee ere my sentence holds.295