Let me go! I will--Help! Help!--and save them at the last. _A Child._ Yes, in God's name! Help quickly ere we die! _The Other Child._ She has almost caught me now. She has a sword. [_Many of the Women are now beating at the barred door to get in. Others are standing apart._ _Women at the door._ Thou stone, thou thing of iron! Wilt verily Spill with thine hand that life, the vintage stored Of thine own agony? _The Other Women._ A Mother slew her babes in days of yore, One, only one, from dawn to eventide, Ino, god-maddened, whom the Queen of Heaven Set frenzied, flying to the dark: and she Cast her for sorrow to the wide salt sea, Forth from those rooms of murder unforgiven, Wild-footed from a white crag of the shore, And clasping still her children twain, she died. O Love of Woman, charged with sorrow sore, What hast thou wrought upon us? What beside Resteth to tremble for? [_Enter hurriedly_ JASON _and Attendants_. JASON. Ye women by this doorway clustering Speak, is the doer of the ghastly thing Yet here, or fled? What hopeth she of flight? Shall the deep yawn to shield her? Shall the height Send wings, and hide her in the vaulted sky To work red murder on her lords, and fly Unrecompensed? But let her go! My care Is but to save my children, not for her. Let them she wronged requite her as they may. I care not. 'Tis my sons I must some way Save, ere the kinsmen of the dead can win From them the payment of their mother's sin. LEADER. Unhappy man, indeed thou knowest not What dark place thou art come to! Else, God wot, Jason, no word like these could fall from thee. JASON. What is it?--Ha! The woman would kill me? LEADER. Thy sons are dead, slain by their mother's hand. JASON. How? Not the children. . . . I scarce understand. . . . O God, thou hast broken me! LEADER. Think of those twain As things once fair, that ne'er shall bloom again. JASON. Where did she murder them? In that old room? LEADER. Open, and thou shalt see thy children's doom. JASON. Ho, thralls! Unloose me yonder bars! Make more Of speed! Wrench out the jointing of the door. And show my two-edged curse, the children dead, The woman. . . . Oh, this sword upon her head. . . . [_While the Attendants are still battering at the door_ MEDEA _appears on the roof, standing on a chariot of winged Dragons, in which are the children's bodies_. MEDEA.