 | Medea |  |
Scene III.
Enter JASON, cum Armatis.JASON.
You whom the Murder of your Prince doth move
With sad Resentments of a loyal Love,
The Author of that execrable Deed
Help to surprize; hither with Weapons speed
You armed Cohorts, here this House surround,
And lay the Fabrick level with the Ground.
Me.
Ay, now our Sceptre, Brother, Sire, again
W'enjoy, and Colchans their rich Spoil retain.
Our Kingdom and our lost Virginity
Are now restor'd: O long cross Destiny
At length grown kind! O festive Nuptials! On,
Give thy Revenge, as Crime, Perfection.
95
My Soul? what Doubts?—Our potent Wrath decays;
Now of the Fact a shameful Penitent.
What have I done? Wretch! such tho I repent,
I've don't; an ample Joy m'unwilling Heart
Seizes: it grows upon me. Yet this part
Of Vengeance wanted, he not being here,
Nor a Spectator; without whom whate'er
W've done, is lost.
Jas.
See where she sits, upon
Yon Houses shelving top! hither some one
Bring burning Brands, and Fire impose on Fire;
That scorch'd in her own Flames she may expire.
Me.
Do, raise your Sons a Fun'ral Pile; your Bride
And Father-in-law, our Kindness did provide
With Rites of Sepulture. His Doom this Son
Hath felt; the like shall this, whilst thou look'st on.
Jas.
By all the Gods! by our Community
Of Flight and Bed, which uninforced I
Ne'er violated: spare this Child; O spare
Me this: the Crime is mine, then let me share
The Punishment; and let deserved Death,
Seize on my guilty Head, and loathed Breath.
Me.
No; where thou would'st not ha't, where thou dost feel
Most Sense of Sorrow, will we force our Steel.
Go now, thou proud Insulter, go and wed
Young Virgins now, and leave a Mother's Bed.
Jas.
Let one suffice t'have suffer'd.
Me.
If our Rage
One Death, or single Slaughter could asswage
96
T'our Wrongs is not Revenge commensurate;
If in our Womb a Pledge there be, ev'n there
This Steel shall search't, and thence the Embrion tear.
Fa.
Dispatch thy Villany; no more we crave:
An End at least now let our Suff'rings have.
Me.
Haste not my Grief; but leisurely imploy
Thy slow Revenge. This Day's our own; w'enjoy
Th'accepted time.
Jas.
Death, cruel! we implore,
Kill me.
Me.
Thou Pity crav'st. All's done; nor more
Had we (O Sorrow!) as a Sacrifice
To offer thee. Erect thy humid Eyes,
Ingrateful Jason, here look up; dost know
Thy Wife? thus use we to escape: Heav'ns show
Our slight clear way; see both our Dragons here,
Who freely stoop their scaly Necks to bear
Their willing Yoke. Now take your Sons, whilst I
On winged Wheels through Airy Regions fly.
Jas.
Go, thro' the high Ætherial Stages post,
And shew there are no Gods where'er thou go'st.
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