MEDEA. To her?
This Fleece to thy fair daughter? Ay, I will!
KING. Holdeth this casket aught besides the Fleece?
MEDEA. Yea, many things!
KING. Thine own?
MEDEA. Mine own.
From these A gift I'd send her.
KING. Nay, I would demand
Naught else of thee. Keep that which is thine own.
MEDEA. Surely thou wilt permit me one small gift!
Thy daughter was so mild to me, so good,
And she will be a mother to my babes.
I fain would win her love! Thou dost desire
Naught but the Fleece; perchance some trinkets rare
Would please her eyes.
KING. Do even as thou wilt;
Only, bethink thee of thy needs. Thou knowest
Already how she loves thee. But an hour
Agone she begged to send thy babes to thee
That thou might'st see them once again, and take
A last farewell before thou settest forth
Upon thy weary way. I said her nay,
For I had seen thy fury. Now thou art
Quiet again, and so shalt have that grace.
MEDEA. Oh, thanks to thee, thou good and pious King!
KING. Wait here. I'll send the children to thee straight.