MEDEA. They will not? These my babes do fear to come Unto their mother?--No, it is not true, It cannot be!--Aeson, my elder son, My best beloved! See, thy mother calls! Come to her! Nay, no more will I be harsh, No more enangered with thee! Thou shalt be Most precious in mine eyes, the one thing left I call mine own! Hark to thy mother! Come!-- He turns his face away, and will not! O Thou thankless child, thou image of thy sire, Like him in each false feature, in mine eyes Hateful, as he is! Stay, then, where thou art! I know thee not!--But thou, Absyrtus, child Of my sore travail, with the merry face Of my lost brother whom with bitter tears I mourn, and mild and gentle as was he, See how thy mother kneels upon the ground And, weeping, calls thee! O let not her prayers Be all in vain! Absyrtus, come to me, My little son! Come to thy mother!--What? He tarries where he is! Thou, too? Thou, too? Give me a dagger, quick, that I may slay These whelps, and then myself! [_She springs up._] [Illustration: MEDEA From the Grillparzer Monument at Vienna] JASON. Nay, thou must thank thyself that thy wild ways Have startled them, estranged them, turned their hearts Unto that mild and gentle maid they love. They do but echo what the gods decree!-- Depart now; but the babes, they tarry here. MEDEA. O children, hear me! JASON. See, they hearken not! MEDEA. O children, children! KING (_to_ CREUSA). Lead them back again Into the palace! 'Tis not meet they hate The mother that did bear them. [CREUSA _moves away with the children._] MEDEA. Woe is me! They flee! My children flee before my face! KING (_to_ JASON). Come we away! To weep for what must be Is fruitless! [_They depart._] MEDEA. O my babes, my little babes! GORA _enters quickly._ GORA. Come, calm thyself, nor grant to these thy foes The joy of seeing how they've conquered thee! MEDEA (_flinging herself upon the ground_). Conquered I am, at last, made nothing worth, Trampled beneath my foes' triumphant feet! They flee me, flee me! Mine own children flee me! GORA (_bending over her_). Thou must not die! MEDEA. Nay, let me die! My babes, My little babes! ACT IV _The outer court of _CREON'S _palace, as in the preceding act. It is twilight._ MEDEA lies prone upon the steps that lead to her apartments; _GORA_ is standing before her._