Shall I let them go?
KING. She is their mother.
CREUSA. Run
To mother, children.
MEDEA (to children).
Come! Why stand ye there
And wait?
CREUSA (to the children, who are clasping her about the neck).
Your mother calls, my little ones.
Run to her quick!
[The children go to MEDEA.]
JASON (to the KING).
My lord, what is thy will?