Say, must I go? So be it—but follow me!
We bear the blame together, let us bear
The punishment as well! Dost thou not know
The ancient proverb: "None shall die alone?"
One home for both, one body—and one death!
Long since, when Death stared grimly in our eyes,
We sware that oath. Now keep it! Follow me!
JASON. Nay, touch me not! Begone from me, thou curse
Of all my days, who hast robbed me of my life
And happiness, from whom, when first mine eyes
Met thine, I shrank and shuddered, though I thought
Those fearful struggles in my very soul
Were but the signs of rash and foolish love.
Hence, to that wilderness that cradled thee!
Back to that bloody folk whose child thou art
In very thought and deed! But, ere thou go,
Give back to me what thou hast stol'n away,
Thou wanton! Give Prince Jason back to me!
MEDEA. Is't Jason thou desirest? Take him, then!
But who shall give Medea back to me?
Was't I that in thy homeland sought thee out?
Was't I that lured thee from thy father's house?
Was't I that forced, ay, forced my love on thee?
Was't I that wrenched thee from thy fatherland,
Made thee the butt of strangers' haughty scorn,
Or dragged thee into wantonness and crime?
Thou nam'st me Wanton?—Woe is me! I am!
Yet—how have I been wanton, and for whom?
Let these pursue me with their venomous hate,
Ay, drive me forth and slay me! 'Tis their right,
Because I am in truth a dreadful thing
And hateful unto them, and to myself
A deep abyss of evil, terrible!
Let all the world heap curses on my head,
Save only thee alone! Nay, thou shalt not!
'Twas thou inspiredst all these horrid deeds,
Yea, thou alone. Dost thou not call to mind
How I did clasp my hands about thy knees
That day thou bad'st me steal the Golden Fleece?
And, though I sooner far had slain myself,
Yet thou, with chilly scorn, commandedst me
To take it. Dost remember how I held
My brother in my bosom, faint to death
From that fierce stroke of thine that laid him low,
Until he tore him from his sister's arms
To 'scape thy frenzied vengeance, and leaped swift
Into the sea, to find a kinder death
Beneath its waves? Dost thou remember?—Nay,
Come here to me, and shrink not so away
To shelter thee behind that maiden there!
JASON (coming forward).
I hate thee,—but I fear thee not!
MEDEA. Then come!
[She addresses him earnestly in low tones.]
Dost thou remember—Nay, look not on me
So haughtily!—how, on that very day
Before thine uncle died, his daughters went
So sorrowful and hopeless forth from me,
Because I sent them back at thy behest,
And would not aid them? Then thou cam'st, alone,
Unto my chamber, looking in mine eyes
So earnestly, as though some purpose grim,
Deep hidden in thy heart, would search my soul
To find its like therein? And how thou saidst
That they were come to me for healing balms
To cure their old, sick father? 'Twas thy wish
That I should brew a cool, refreshing draught
To cure him of his ills forevermore—
And thee as well! Hast thou forgotten that?
Nay, look at me, eye straight to eye, if thou
Dost dare!
JASON. Thou demon! Why these frantic words,
This rage against me? Why recall to life
These shadows of my dreams and make them real,
Why hold a mirror up to me wherein
Naught but thine own vile thoughts do show, and say
'Tis I that look therefrom? Why call my thoughts
From out the past to charge me with thy crimes?
Naught know I of thy plans and plottings, naught!
From the beginning I have hated thee,
I've cursed the day when first I saw thy face;
'Tis pity only held me at thy side!
But now I cast thee off forevermore
With bitter curses, e'en as all the world
Doth curse thee!
MEDEA (throwing herself at his feet with a cry of agony).