Now God in heaven be witness, all my heart Is willing, in all ways, to do its part For thee and for thy babes. But nothing good Can please thee. In sheer savageness of mood Thou drivest from thee every friend. Wherefore I warrant thee, thy pains shall be the more. [_He goes slowly away._ MEDEA. Go: thou art weary for the new delight Thou wooest, so long tarrying out of sight Of her sweet chamber. Go, fulfil thy pride, O bridegroom! For it may be, such a bride Shall wait thee,--yea, God heareth me in this-- As thine own heart shall sicken ere it kiss. * * * * * CHORUS. Alas, the Love that falleth like a flood, Strong-winged and transitory: Why praise ye him? What beareth he of good To man, or glory? Yet Love there is that moves in gentleness, Heart-filling, sweetest of all powers that bless. Loose not on me, O Holder of man's heart, Thy golden quiver, Nor steep in poison of desire the dart That heals not ever. The pent hate of the word that cavilleth, The strife that hath no fill, Where once was fondness; and the mad heart's breath For strange love panting still: O Cyprian, cast me not on these; but sift, Keen-eyed, of love the good and evil gift. Make Innocence my friend, God's fairest star, Yea, and abate not The rare sweet beat of bosoms without war, That love, and hate not. _Others._ Home of my heart, land of my own, Cast me not, nay, for pity, Out on my ways, helpless, alone, Where the feet fail in the mire and stone, A woman without a city. Ah, not that! Better the end: The green grave cover me rather, If a break must come in the days I know, And the skies be changed and the earth below; For the weariest road that man may wend Is forth from the home of his father. Lo, we have seen: 'tis not a song Sung, nor learned of another. For whom hast thou in thy direst wrong For comfort? Never a city strong To hide thee, never a brother. Ah, but the man--cursèd be he, Cursèd beyond recover, Who openeth, shattering, seal by seal, A friend's clean heart, then turns his heel, Deaf unto love: never in me Friend shall he know nor lover. [_While_ MEDEA _is waiting downcast, seated upon her door-step, there passes from the left a traveller with followers. As he catches sight of_ MEDEA _he stops_. AEGEUS. Have joy, Medea! 'Tis the homeliest Word that old friends can greet with, and the best. MEDEA (_looking up, surprised_). Oh, joy on thee, too, Aegeus, gentle king Of Athens!--But whence com'st thou journeying? AEGEUS. From Delphi now and the old encaverned stair. . . . MEDEA.