 | The Tragedy of Medea |  |
6
SCENE II.
Palace of CREON.CREON, JASON, CREUSA, with Attendants,
From the Temple of Hymen.
Hymen in a flame-coloured Vest, with a Chaplet of Roses, a large waxen Taper in his right Hand, a golden Heart in his left Hand, and a Cornucopia by his Side. He is attended by six Priests of Hymen, with Olive Branches in their right Hands, and crown'd with Laurel and waxen Tapers in their left Hands; several Officers of the Palace in flame-coloured Robes. Jason and Creusa both crowned with the Greek Diadem, intermixed with Flowers. The King alone on the Throne, Jason and Creusa are seated on his right and left Hand, solemn Musick by the whole Orchæstra; the Hymenæal Dance. Creon descends.
CREON, JASON, CREUSA.
CREON.
Jason, thy Virtue shall deliver down
To late Posterity the Name of Creon.
JASON.
When you bestow, like Heav'n, beyond the Hope
Or Power of meriting, what can we pay
But the poor Sacrifice of Thanks? I feel
My Heart now swelling into Words to utter
What you with Pain would hear. My Benefactor,
My Royal Master, let me add, my Father,
7
I am thy Child, thy Servant, and thy Friend.
CREON.
Bending with Age, and looking to my Grave,
My Spirits rekindle at this wish'd Alliance;
They start again into a Blaze of Youth.
Here I take Root once more, I spring in thee;
I see arising from this wish'd Alliance
A Line of Heroes, valiant, wise and just,
The future Benefactors of Mankind.
I see them sink deep in the Lengths of Time,
And spreading wide. Ages unborn shall bless
This Union. All the Temples of our Gods
Shall yearly sound repeated Iô Pæans,
From Age to Age, as this great Day returns.
JASON.
Oh sweeter than the spicy Breath of Morning,
Best Gift of Heav'n and Creon, my Creusa;
Why are those Lights, whose Beams vyed with the Day,
Cast in a Shade? Why drops this pearly Dew?
Now, blushing like Aurora, the warm Blood
Crimsons thy Cheek, now pale as Cynthia's Rays.
Hence with these maiden Fears. Jason is thine;
If that be pleasing to thee; wholly thine.
CREUSA.
That you are mine, it covers me with Shame
When I confess so much, and fills my Soul
With Joy, with Transport not to be related.
Oh that you were, that you were wholly mine!
[Aside.
CREON.
Thy Sex, Creusa, is by Nature weak,
Made up of Tenderness and soft Compassion,
Unapt to combat with the Cares of Life.
The Gods have form'd you in the Arts of Peace,
To sweeten and reward the Hero's Toils.
The Warrior is the fair One's strong Defence,
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What better Guardian of my Realms and thee
Cou'd I provide than Jason, fam'd and honour'd,
The Pride of wond'ring Greece, inur'd to Dangers,
Taught in Adversity's hard School to bend,
To break his Passions and subdue himself?
CREUSA.
(If there are Creatures of superior Excellence,
Who cover with their Wings the weak and innocent)
Thou art my guardian God. Yes, I look up
With Honour towards my glorious, great Protector.
Rever'd and lov'd, thus let me pay my Thanks,
[kneeling.
Yet let my Soul open her Fears before thee.
[rising.
Medæa, Sir,—she claims a Right above me;
She threatens, rages, jealous and revengeful.
A jealous Woman's Hate is to be feared.
Medæa too is skill'd in dreadful Knowledge,
In Nature's Secrets learn'd; the magian Arts
Are all her own; she draws from Drugs and Simples
Distracting Poisons and inchanting Powers.
These Fears, forgive me, do a little cloud
The Joys of this bright Day.
CREON.
Creusa, fear not,
I have provided well. Retire, my Child;
The ceremonious Labours of the Day
Demand repose. Forms of thy tender Make
Are hurt and weary'd with the least Disorder.
[Jason leads Creusa to the Door and returns.
[Exeunt Creusa and Attendants.
[Remain only Creon and Jason.
| The Tragedy of Medea | |