KING. And thou—?
JASON. What could I? Was she not my wife,
That trusted to my arm to keep her safe?
Who challenged her, was he not then my foe?
Why, had he named some easier behest,
By Heaven, I had obeyed not even that!
Then how grant this? I laughed at his command.
KING. And he—?
JASON. Spake doom of banishment for both.
Forth from Iolcos on that selfsame day
We must depart, he said. But I would not,
And stayed.
Forthwith a grievous illness seized
The king, and through the town a murmur ran
Whisp'ring strange tidings: How the aged king,
Seated before his household shrine, whereon
They had hung the Fleece in honor of the god,
Gazed without ceasing on that golden prize,
And oft would cry that thence his brother's face
Looked down on him,—my father's, whom he slew
By guile, disputing of the Argo-quest.
Ay, that dead face peered down upon him now
From every glittering lock of that bright Fleece,
In search of which, false man! he sent me forth
To distant lands, in hope that I should perish!
At last, when all the king's house saw their need,
To me for succor his proud daughters came,
Begging my wife to heal him by her skill.
But I cried, "No! Am I to save the man
Who plotted certain death for me and mine?"
And those proud maidens turned again in tears.
I shut me up within my house, unheeding
Aught else that passed. Weeping, they came again,
And yet again; each time I said them nay.
And then one night, as I lay sleeping, came
A dreadful cry before my door! I waked
To find Acastus, my false uncle's son,
Storming my portal with loud, frenzied blows,
Calling me murderer, slayer of his sire!
That night the aged king had passed from life.
Up from my couch I sprang, and sought to speak,
But vainly, for the people's howls of rage
Drowned my weak cries. Then one among them cast
A stone, then others. But I drew my blade
And through the mob to safety cut my way.
Since then I've wandered all fair Hellas o'er,
Reviled of men, a torment to myself.
And, if thou, too, refuse to succor me,
Then am I lost indeed!
KING. Nay, I have sworn
And I will keep my oath. But this thy wife—
JASON. Hear me, O king, before thou end that speech!
Needs must thou take us both, or none at all!
I were a happy man,—ay, born anew—
Were she but gone forever. But no, no!
I must protect her—for she trusted me.
KING. These magic arts she knows—'tis them I fear.
The power to injure, spells the will to do it.
Besides, these strange, suspicious deeds of hers—
These are not all her guilt.
JASON. Give her one chance.
Then, if she stay not quiet, hound her forth,
Hunt her, and slay her, me, and these my babes.
Yet, till that time, I pray thee let her try
If she can live at peace with this thy folk.
This boon I crave of thee by mightiest Zeus,
The god of strangers—ay, and call upon
The ancient bond of friendship that, long since,
Our fathers formed, mine in Iolcos, thine
In Corinth here. On that long-vanished day
They dreamed there might fall need of such a tie.
And, now that need is here, do thou thy part
And succor me, lest in like evil pass
Thou make the same request, and meet denial.
KING. 'Tis the gods' will; I yield, against my judgment,
And she shall stay. But, look you, if she show
One sign that those wild ways are not forgot,
I drive her forth from out this city straight
And yield her up to those who seek her life!
Here in this meadow, where I found thee first,
A sacred altar shall be raised, to Zeus,
The god of strangers, consecrate and to
Thy murdered uncle Pelias' bloody shades.
Here will we kneel together and pray the gods
To send their blessing on thy coming here,
And turn to mercy that which bodes us ill.—
Now to my royal city follow swift.
[He turns to his attendants, who approach.]