CREUSA. Didst doubt him, father? Nay, I never did! My heart told me these tales were never true, These hideous stories that men tell of him. Gentle he was, and kind; how could he, then, Show him so base and cruel? Couldst thou know How they have slandered thee, heaped curse on curse! I've wept, to think our fellow-men could be So bitter, false. For thou hadst scarce set sail, When, sudden, all men's talk throughout the land Was of wild deeds and hideous midnight crimes-- The fruit of witchcraft on far Colchis' shores-- Which thou hadst done.--And, last, a woman, dark And dreadful, so they said, thou took'st to wife, Brewer of poisons, slayer of her sire. What was her name? It had a barbarous sound-- MEDEA (_stepping forward with the children_). Medea! Here am I. KING. Is 't she? JASON (_dully_). It is. CREUSA (_pressing close to her father_). O, horror! MEDEA (_to_ CREUSA). Thou'rt wrong. I never slew my sire. My brother died, 'tis true; but ask my lord If 'twas my doing. [_She points to _JASON.] True it is, fair maid, That I am skilled to mix such magic potions As shall bring death or healing, as I will. And many a secret else I know. Yet, see! I am no monster, no, nor murderess. CREUSA. Oh, dreadful, horrible. KING. And is she thy--wife? JASON. My wife. KING. Those children there? JASON. They are mine own. KING. Unhappy man! JASON. Yea, sooth!--Come, children, bring Those green boughs in your hands, and reach them out To our lord the King, and pray him for his help, [_He leads them up by the hand._] Behold, my lord, these babes. Thou canst not spurn them! ONE CHILD (_holding out a bough timidly to the _KING). See, here it is. KING (_laying his hands gently on the children's heads_). Poor tiny birdlings, snatched from out your nest! CREUSA (_kneeling compassionately beside the children_). Come here to me, poor, homeless, little orphans! So young, and yet misfortune bows you down So soon! So young, and oh! so innocent!-- And look, how this one has his father's mien! [_She kisses the smaller boy._] Stay here with me. I'll be your mother, sister. MEDEA (_with sudden fierceness_). They are not orphans, do not need thy tears Of pity! For Prince Jason is their father; And while Medea lives, they have no need To seek a mother! (_To the children._) Come to me-come here. CREUSA (_glancing at her father_).