[He departs.]
MEDEA. He's gone—and to his doom! Fool! Didst thou not
Tremble and shudder when thou took'st away
Her last possession from the woman thou
Hadst robbed already? Yet, I thank thee for it,
Ay, thank thee!
Thou hast given me back myself!
—Unlock the casket!
GORA (fumbling at it).
That I cannot do.
MEDEA. Nay, I forgot how I did lock it up!
The key is kept by friends I know full well.
[She turns toward the chest.]
Up from below!
Down from o'erhead!
Open, thou secretest
Tomb of the dead!
The lid springs open, and I am no more
A weak and powerless woman! There they lie,
My staff, my veil of crimson! Mine! Ah, mine!
[She takes them out of the casket.]
I take thee in my hands, thou mighty staff
Of mine own mother, and through heart and limbs
Unfailing strength streams forth from thee to me!
And thee, beloved wimple, on my brow
I bind once more!