JASON. Is it so easy, then,
To live, a stranger, in a stranger's house,
Subsisting on a stranger's pitying gifts?
MEDEA. Nay, if it seem so hard, why dost not choose
To fly with me?
JASON. But whither? Ay, and how?
MEDEA. There was a time thou hadst not shown thyself
So over-prudent, when thou camest first
To Colchis from the city of thy sires,
Seeking the glitter of an empty fame
In distant lands.
JASON. I am not what I was;
Broken my strength, the courage in my breast
A dead thing. And 'tis thou I have to thank
For such misfortune! Bitter memories
Of days long past lie like a weight of lead
Upon my anxious soul; I cannot raise
Mine eyes for heaviness of heart. And, more,
The boy of those far days is grown a man,
No longer, like a wanton, sportive child,
Gambols amid bright flow'rs, but reaches out
For ripened fruit, for what is real and sure.
Babes I have got, but have no place where they
May lay their heads; my task it is to make
An heritage for these. Shall Jason's stock
Be but a withered weed beside the road,
By all men spurned and trampled? If thou e'er
Hast truly loved me, if I e'er was dear
To thee, oh, give me proof thereof, restore
Myself to me again, and yield a grave
To me in this, my homeland!
MEDEA. And in this
Same homeland a new marriage-bed, forsooth I
Am I not right?
JASON. What idle talk is this?
MEDEA. Have I not heard how Creon named thee son,
And husband of his daughter? She it is,
Creusa, that doth charm thee, hold thee fast
In Corinth! 'Tis for her that thou wouldst stay!
Confess, I have thee there!
JASON. Thou hast me not,
And never hadst me.
MEDEA. So, thou wilt repent,
And I, thy wife Medea, I must go
Away?—I stood beside you there and wept
As thou didst trace with her your happy days
Of youth together, tarrying at each step
In sweet remembrance, till thou didst become
Naught but an echo of that distant past.—
I will not go, no, will not!