JASON. Yea, it is I. And is this thou, Creusa,
Crowned with a yet more gentle, radiant grace,
But still the same? O, take me by the hand
And lead me to thy father, where he stands
With thoughtful brow, fixing his steady gaze
Upon my face, and dallies with his doubt
Whether to greet me kindly. Is he wroth
At me, or at my guilt, which all men cry?
CREUSA (taking JASON's hand and leading him to her father).
See, father, 'tis Prince Jason!
KING. He is welcome.
JASON. Thy distant greeting shows me clear what place
Now best beseems me. Here at thy feet I fall
And clasp thy knees, and stretch a timid hand
To touch thy chin. Grant me my prayer, O King!
Receive and shelter a poor suppliant wretch!
KING. Rise, Jason.
JASON. Never, till thou—
KING. Rise, I say.
[Jason rises to his feet.]
KING. So, from thine Argo-quest thou art returned?