 | The Tragedy of Medea |  |
SCENE I.
Apartment of Medæa in the Palace of Creon.Ægæus, Ethra.
Ægæus.
Ethra , thou know'st my Soul, thou know'st the Fires,
That slowly waste, and prey upon my Vitals;
Time, Absence, Reason, and th'uncommon Warmth,
With which Medæa doats on perjur'd Jason,
Ought to convince me she can ne'er be mine;
Yet still my thoughtless Passion hurries on;
From Realm to Realm, and Sea to Sea, I drag
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ETHRA.
O Prince! with what a wild and distant View
Thy generous Soul pursues the fairy Prospect.
You see her Wrongs from Jason but inflame
And manifest her Passion in Extremes.
Not the most smiling Hour can make her thine.
Thy Love, Ægæus, may produce Esteem;
Esteem a cold Return; yet all that she
Can grant, or you expect.
ÆGÆUS.
Yet still my Heart
Delights in Hope; and, reasonless and lost,
To every other Comfort, feeds on Air;
And while I thus attend her Hours of Sorrow,
I very vainly fancy that I merit,
Because I wish to merit from Medæa.
Yes, Ethra, yes, thou knowst my Soul sincere
(E're this her Favourite Jason sail'd for Cholchis)
Was all Medæa's, was thy Sister's wholly.
Delights in Hope; and, reasonless and lost,
To every other Comfort, feeds on Air;
And while I thus attend her Hours of Sorrow,
I very vainly fancy that I merit,
Because I wish to merit from Medæa.
Yes, Ethra, yes, thou knowst my Soul sincere
(E're this her Favourite Jason sail'd for Cholchis)
Was all Medæa's, was thy Sister's wholly.
Curs'd be the Day, when first this Ship, this Argo,
Cut thro' the liquid Plain her Way to Cholchis.
Accurs'd be Pelion, whose aspiring Brow
First nourish'd the tall Pine that bound her Wings.
O that the generous Band of noble Youth,
Who sail'd within her under Jason's Conduct,
Had ne're return'd loaden with fleecy Gold
To Pelea's Shores; Medæa then unknowing
Of Love, or Guilt, of Jealousy or Jason,
Had rul'd perhaps in Peace Minerva's City,
My happy Consort.—Ethra, these are Visions,
Elizian Dreams—an Interval of Hope
That points Despair and quickens every Pain.
Cut thro' the liquid Plain her Way to Cholchis.
Accurs'd be Pelion, whose aspiring Brow
First nourish'd the tall Pine that bound her Wings.
O that the generous Band of noble Youth,
Who sail'd within her under Jason's Conduct,
Had ne're return'd loaden with fleecy Gold
To Pelea's Shores; Medæa then unknowing
Of Love, or Guilt, of Jealousy or Jason,
Had rul'd perhaps in Peace Minerva's City,
My happy Consort.—Ethra, these are Visions,
Elizian Dreams—an Interval of Hope
That points Despair and quickens every Pain.
ETHRA.
You know, Ægæus, wise and equal Creon,
Who rules this happy Land, the King of Corinth,
Adopted Jason as the worthiest Heir,
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He chose him to secure, by this Allyance,
As far as human Foresight can secure,
A Race of future Princes wise and valiant.
ÆGÆUS.
This Usage may estrange Medæa's Heart.
ETHRA.
Yes, there is still this Hope; Creon resolves,
As Fame reports, to banish her from Corinth;
Medæa and her Children. Athens then
May prove a happy Refuge for that Princess,
A blest Assylum; and Ægæus then
May claim a Debt, a Debt of Gratitude.
ÆGÆUS.
O thou hast fir'd my Soul; a pleasing Warmth
Runs thro' my Veins. And is it possible?
This Hour, they say, the Nuptials were perform'd,
And Jason's and Creusa's Hands were join'd.
ETHRA.
'Tis true the Chariots are but now return'd
From Hymen's Temple. I observ'd the Croud;
The catching Joy ran thro' the giddy Populace;
Pleas'd and displeas'd they know not why; they shouted;
They hugg'd the gilded Spokes, and bore aloft
The Chariot Wheels. All Eyes were fix'd on Jason
And the fair Bride. They gaz'd and gap'd and swallow'd
With Joy the Show—the neighing Prancer's paw'd;
They rais'd their Crests, and beat the sparkling Pavement;
They shook their Mains, proud of their gilded Trappings;
With Veins inflam'd, and Nostrils breathing Fire
They likewise seem'd to share the general Triumph.
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And did Medæa see this Sacrifice?
ETHRA.
She saw her Jason, crown'd with nuptial Garlands,
Lead his new Wife Creusa to the Temple;
She saw them mount the golden Throne together;
She saw the Priests perform the nuptial Sacrifice.
ÆGÆUS.
How did Medæa bear this stabbing Sight?
ETHRA.
As Seas opposing Winds; as the torn Earth
Convulsive fires, At first she strove to check
Her swelling Heart; she feign'd to seem unmov'd
And smiled contemptuously; but yet her Smiles
Were mark'd with Horror.—When a sudden Shivering
Seiz'd every Limb, and a dead Paleness spread
Her beauteous Face, she sunk into my Arms
A Weight of Death. Her Servants bore her hither
Intranc'd, and by her Sorrows overwhelm'd.
As she revives, her Pains revive again,
Again she feels, she rages, she complains.
ÆGÆUS.
Her Sufferings touch my sympathizing Soul.
ETHRA.
Now she beholds Medæa lost, neglected,
Her Beauties scorn'd. What Woman tamely bears
Contempt and slighted Love? She upbraids her Lord,
Her perjur'd Lord; she calls upon the Gods
And injur'd Justice, deprecates the Vengeance
Of Heav'n and Earth;—then desolate and mourning
Refuses Food and Sleep, while Drop by Drop
The Sorrows down her fading Features fall,
Nor lifts her Eyes to Heav'n, nor listens she
To Friends Advice, or wishes for her Health,
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Raises her bloodshot Eyes, with Sorrow swoln;
Deplores her Country lost, her Father's House
Abandon'd all for an ungrateful Husband.
ÆGÆUS.
Ungrateful! yes a vile unworthy Traitor.
ETHRA.
But when she sees the Children of this Husband,
The dearest Pledges, once, of mutual Love,
Redoubled Wrath tortures her aking Heart,
Her Soul impetuous, violent and rash,
Hardly supports her Wrongs; she suffers them
Indignant and enflam'd; I see the swellings
Of her tempestuous Mind, and every Hour
Expect to see the pointed Dagger plung'd
Deep in her Heart, stung with Despair and Jealousy.
ÆGÆUS.
Ye Gods! Propitious all to injur'd Virtue,
Ease her torn Mind; and mitigate her Pains.
ETHRA.
Jason perhaps, tho' her Soul doats to Death
On this ungrateful Man, may feel her Rage;
Or, when her Eye beholds the nuptial Bed
Of her false Lord, will she restrain her Hand
From Violence and Blood;—with Vehemence
She loves and hates.
[Flourish of Trumpets.
ÆGÆUS.
Attend, these Chariots speak the King's Approach.
The solemn, great Procession now has reach'd
The Palace Gates. Ethra, let us retire;
Endeavour with thy Council to support
Thy much wrong'd Sister, desolate Medæa.
[Exeunt.
| The Tragedy of Medea | |