University of Virginia Library

ACT the FOURTH.

SCENE the FIRST.

JASON and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
JASON.
Why am I summon'd?

FIRST COLCHIAN.
But once more to greet her.

JASON.
And be the mark of scorn.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Remind thee, hero,
Of all thy gen'rous labours ne'er deny'd,
But oft repeated to restore the wretched.
Shall thy distress'd Medea be the first,
Thou dost refuse to aid?

JASON.
It is too late.
She cast me from her, and we now are strangers.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
I have been long a traveller with time,
And through unnumber'd evils have I noted
Those born of anger to be most deplor'd.
Thou look'st no longer on that mutual care,
Your children's welfare. In the wrathful Jason
Benignity is lost, ev'n nature dead
In the fond father.

JASON.
When I nam'd our children,
Her ear was deafen'd, and her scornful tongue
Was sharpen'd into outrage.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
See them here,
The lively patterns of their mother's graces,
And sharers in misfortune.

SCENE the SECOND.

JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN and the CHILDREN.
ELDEST CHILD.
Art thou found
At last, my father? In thy search we pass'd
Through frightful waters, and in roaring winds.
Come to our mother, who of thee complains;
And with a promise never more to leave us
Speak comfort to her.

JASON.
Comfort!

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Dost thou shrink
To see these pledges of a love like hers?
Oh! thou obdurate, who hast thrown the beauties
Of virtue from thee in thy youthful season,
When ev'ry soft sensation is most warm,
To clasp the cold deformity of guilt!
I have no off-spring—Must an old man's eyes
Teach thine their tender lesson? Must a heart,
Which time and ills and care might well have sear'd,
Teach thee affection, and a parent's feeling?

JASON.
Support me rather, than depress me, Colchian.
I sink—My soul dissolving in affection
Hath quite unmann'd me.

ELDEST CHILD.
Dost thou grieve to see us?

JASON.
No, my poor boys. My spirit bows before you
In love and rev'rence. These indeed subsist
A common care exacting all regard.
What shall I say—Not cruel would I seem,
Not ev'n severe—Yet, Colchian, let me ask?
Will she . . . .

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Command her; she is all submission.

JASON.
Amid the woes of separating parents
Who like the father can protect the off-spring?
Will she commit them to my charge, that comfort,
Prosperity and honour be their portion?

ELDEST CHILD.
Ah! do not take us from our mother's arms.

YOUNGEST CHILD.
From our kind mother. Leave us.

ELDEST CHILD.
Leave us here
To weep with her.

JASON.
How constant are these children!
But they were never harrass'd by her scorn.

SCENE the THIRD.

JASON, the CHILDREN, MEDEA, COLCHIANS and PHÆACIANS.
MEDEA
stopping short.
The man, who knew, and yet despis'd my worth,
I see before me—Still, thou restif heart,
Still dost thou rise tumultuous in my bosom?
Oh! thou must bend.

JASON.
Well, daughter of Æetes;
Lo! I am here obedient to thy call.

MEDEA.
Once was the time, when Jason would have come
Uncall'd, unprompted, but by love alone.
Why do I bring the wasted glass of joy
Back to my view!—Oh! torture of remembrance!
Oh! Jason! Jason!

JASON.
Speak.

MEDEA.
I cannot speak.

JASON
aside.
My spirit yields—this mute distress o'erwhelms me.

MEDEA.
Is it decreed to separate thy name
From mine for ever.—First to all restore me,
Which I relinquish'd for thee, to my country,
The veneration, which that country paid me,
My injur'd parents, and their lost affection.
To my untainted, virgin fame restore me,
My once untroubled, unreproaching thoughts.
Impossible—Then hear, and yet be just.

JASON
aside.
Oh! that this morning she had thus address'd me!

MEDEA.
Not love alone, not Hymen's common ties,
But fame and conquest, mutual toils and hardships,
All, which is marvellous and great, conspir'd
To make us one. What stars in distant skies,
What seas, what shores unvisited before
Have we not seen together? And what perils
Could each inhospitable clime present,
From which Medea hath not sav'd her Jason?
Our toils at length surmounted, must we part?
My lord—My husband—Father of these boys!
Shame, anguish, desperation rush upon me!
They bind my heart in adamantine woes!
They weigh me down—They bear me to the earth.
[Kneeling with the children.
Thus low behold the issue of the sun
Imploring pity of the man, who scorn'd her.

JASON.
Canst thou, O Juno, from thy neighb'ring temple
View this illustrious suff'rer at my feet,
Nor swift destruction from thy altar show'r
On my perfidious head? Why rather, goddess,
Who hast thy thunder like thy husband, Jove,
Didst thou not blast me, when, by furies guided,
I ratify'd but now th'unhallow'd contract.

MEDEA
rising.
What hast thou said?

JASON.
Creüsa—is my wife.
[He starts at Medea's looks, then fixes his eyes stedfastly upon her, and after some time proceeds.
Medea—Ha! Have sense and motion left her?
Her colour dies, which once outshone the morn.
Those radiant eyes, whose majesty proclaim'd
The sun's own progeny, withdraw their lustre.
Oh! thou most injur'd, utter thy complaints;
Give words to anger, and to sorrow tears.

MEDEA.
Astonishment! What prodigy is there?
Look yonder.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Go—go, children, to the temple;
Avoid this sight.

[The children are led off by a Phæacian to the temple.
MEDEA.
What wonderful appearance
Floats on the main, and stems the lofty surge?

JASON.
O execrable perfidy! which fills
The loveliest eyes with tears, the noblest heart
With pangs, the most enlighten'd mind with madness.

MEDEA.
See, where yon snowy concave in its bosom
Collecting all the motion of the winds
Drives the huge burthen to th'affrighted shore.

JASON.
O had the flood, she sees in frantic thought,
Ingulph'd that bark!

MEDEA
advancing towards him.
What art thou, most presumptuous,
Who dar'st approach the limits of this region?
Hast thou not heard, that bulls with brazen feet,
And sleepless dragons guard the fatal soil?
He hears unterrify'd—I ne'er beheld
Such majesty and grace.

JASON.
Debas'd, deform'd
By guilt's polluting hand!

MEDEA.
He speaks—What music!
He claims the golden fleece—What means this warmth,
Which prompts my hand to give the radiant prize?
But wilt thou prove then constant—ever kind?
I must, I will believe thee.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
What remorse,
What consternation petrify his frame!
And she grows wilder.

MEDEA.
Hark. With flaming throats
The bulls begin to roar. The forest trembles.
And see, the dragon hither points his course.
See, his huge pinions beat the tortur'd air.
His monstrous body rolls the blast before him,
And sails amidst a whirlwind. Dost thou droop?
Be not dismay'd, my hero. Stand behind.
Attend, ye demons, whose contagious breath
Defiles the sun, who chill the fiercest heart,
And lock in drowsy sloth the nerves of strength.

JASON.
Assume thy terrors—Moulder me to dust.
Now call thy demons, whose infernal grasp
May snatch and hurl me to my destin'd pains.
Let me be stretch'd on torn Ixion's wheel,
Or chain'd in burning adamant endure
The tooth of vipers, and the scorpion's sting;
Oh! rather, rather, than behold thy suff'rings.

MEDEA.
Why art thou pale and languid? Thou art safe.
The slumb'ring monster drops his scaly wings.
Thine is the fleece—Medea too is thine.
[Jason throws himself back, and is receiv'd by the Colchians.
Confusion and amazement!—Is he vanish'd?
Where am I?—On a rock, a desart cliff,
Which overhangs the unfrequented waves;
No plant, but moss, to hide its craggy sides;
No shelter nigh my tempest-beaten head:
And lo! two infants clinging to my knees,
Who join my grief, and call Medea mother.
O thou false hero, whither art thou fled?
Hark—The wind only answers my complaint,
It is the sea, which murmurs to my groans.
Ha! what art thou, grim shape embru'd with gore?
Why dost thou wave that Stygian torch around?
Art thou Revenge from Tartarus enlarg'd
To aid Medea? Come then, shake thy brand
Before my steps. To perpetrate thy mischief
The winds shall lend their swiftness, hell its fiends,
The sea its fury, and the Sun his flames.

SCENE the FOURTH.

JASON and the FIRST COLCHIAN.
FIRST COLCHIAN.
Resume thy courage.

JASON.
Yes, my soul emerges
From dark confusion, now she knows the worst.
My sight is clear'd, my enterprise resolv'd,
And hope enlarges my advent'rous spirit.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
I hear in wonder, prince. At least prepare thee
To guard Medea in her new distress,
Whom Creon threatens to expel.

JASON.
The priestess
Will be her safeguard, till. . . . .

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Restrain thy speech,
And look behind thee. He is sent from Creon
To drive her hence.

SCENE the FIFTH.

JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN and LYCANDER.
JASON.
Lycander!

LYCANDER.
Prince, allow me
With this old Colchian to confer a moment.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Nay, speak aloud.

LYCANDER.
Thou know'st my errand, Colchian.

FIRST COLCHIAN.
Yes, if our princess willingly depart not,
Thou wilt by force remove her.

JASON.
Base and impious!
Now should these hands, which yok'd the brazen bulls,
Divide thy limbs, and hurl the mangled fragments
From yonder promontory's brow to feast
The scaly monsters in the flood below,
It were a righteous sacrifice to justice:
But thou art brother to the good Theano.

LYCANDER.
Whom thou dost wrong in me. By her consent,
And on Medea's promise to depart,
I came to guide her with respectful care
To Corinth's verge. Compassion for this princess,
Dread of the king, and rev'rence for the goddess,
With all thy changes, prince, perplex my course;
That through the maze of this eventful day
I ne'er shall tread securely.

JASON.
Nay, Lycander,
If thou art blameless . . . .

LYCANDER.
Stop. The king is here
To widen this confusion.

SCENE the SIXTH.

JASON, the FIRST COLCHIAN, LYCANDER, CREON and attendants.
CREON
entring.
I am told,
That with a pensive mien he left the palace,
And join'd a Colchian of Medea's train.
Gods! he is here—disorder'd—with Lycander
And that old stranger—all in sullen silence
At my appearance—Jason—He replies not.
What are your consultations? Speak, Lycander.

LYCANDER.
My liege, I cannot, uninform'd like thee.

CREON.
Then, as a king and father, I demand
Of thee, Thessalian hero, why, confus'd
At my approach, thy countenance is fall'n?

JASON.
At thy approach? More formidable pow'rs
Could never awe this heart, which nought hath vanquish'd,
But its own frailties.

CREON.
Visions.

JASON.
Hear with patience.
The tutelary deity of Corinth
Sits here in awful judgment. Virtue pleads,
And pity weeps before her. Thou and I
At this tribunal shew our guilty heads.
Long have we slumber'd on the couch of folly;
Let us awaken from the cheating dream,
Nor each rebuke the other for his weakness,
But acquiesce in Juno's just decree.
I must annul my contract with thy daughter,
And bid her now eternally farewel.

CREON.
Eternally farewel? I dream—Lycander,
Is not Medea gone?

LYCANDER.
My lord, the time. . . .

CREON.
Inactive traitor! Go and seize that fiend.

JASON
to Creon.
Hold. Thou esteem'st me still the gentle Jason,
The pliant vassal of my father's will,
And thy ambition. I am chang'd—My heart
Is full of tumult—New-created rage,
Rage at myself, at Æson too and thee
Now ravages my bosom—Then be counsell'd,
Nor tempt the wild, ungovernable transports
Of one distemper'd with a foul assemblage
Of guilt, despair and shame.

CREON.
Presumptuous boy!
Do thy exploits by sorcery atchiev'd,
Do thy rude trophies from barbarians won
Exalt thy pride to brave a Grecian monarch?
When now, from all inheritance expell'd,
A needy exile, thou hast no support,
But from my throne, whose patronage is granted
To thy imploring father.

JASON.
I reject it,
And own no patron, but my sword and name.
Can I want aid, the argonautic leader?
While Hercules, while Telamon and Peleus,
While sacred Orpheus, and the twins of Leda
Remain unconquer'd to assert my cause.
Why do I measure folly back to folly,
And here degrade my honours and renown
With boasts resembling thine? Farewel forever.

SCENE the SEVENTH.

LYCANDER, CREON and attendants.
CREON.
Ha! I perceive his purpose. Haste, collect
[To one of his attendants.
A faithful band; secure Medea's vessel.
Ye blackest demons of resentment, rise;
March by my side, and brandish you my scepter.
[To another of his attendants.
Thou shut the city-gates. Let none depart
Without my licence. I will hold him still,
And cast him prostrate at Creüsa's feet.

SCENE the EIGHTH.

LYCANDER, CREON, attendants and THEANO.
THEANO.
I heard thy threat'ning voice, O blindly fix'd
In disobedience to the queen of gods.

CREON.
Dar'st thou, sole authress of thy sov'reign's ills,
Confront his anger? First on thee, confed'rate
[To Lycander.
With this rebellious, shall my vengeance fall.
By thy design'd misconduct Jason twice
Hath seen Medea.

LYCANDER.
Chance, or heav'n's appointment,
Not my contrivance. . . .

CREON.
Seize and drag him hence;
Low in a dungeon hide him; chain him down
In damps and darkness.

LYCANDER.
Citizens of Corinth,
This place is holy. In the name of Juno
I claim protection.

THEANO.
Universal rev'rence
From your forefathers at the birth of Corinth
Hath guarded still th'inviolable grove.

CREON.
Do ye recoil, ye cowards? Rebel, traitor,
I will assemble those, shall force this refuge,
The seat of priestly craft to aid sedition;
When thou in torture shalt attone thy crime.

THEANO.
Once more I warn thee to revere a goddess.

CREON.
No, I revere a god, the god of thunders.
Jove, thou did'st toil for empire; so shall Creon,
And shew the earth a pattern of thy sway.
For empire thou thy father did'st dethrone,
Thy Titan kindred plunge in deepest hell.
The giant lancing from his hundred hands
A hundred rocks to shake th'Olympian tow'rs
Thou didst with labour vanquish. Shall these shades,
Which awe the vulgar, shall the ready prey
To ev'ry firebrand, or the woodman's ax
Obstruct a king? No, insolent revolters,
Soon shall you see me lift the bloody scourge
Of chastisement, unsheathe the sword of havoc,
And vindicate my glory.

THEANO.
Impious man!

SCENE the NINTH.

LYCANDER and THEANO.
THEANO.
Do thou consult thy safety.

LYCANDER.
Be not anxious.
The king's own rashness shall secure Lycander.
Though years may roll on years, ere we again
Shall meet in peace.

SCENE the TENTH.

LYCANDER, THEANO and JASON.
JASON.
Medea to thy temple
Is fled from all her virgins, who entreat
Thy kind permission to pursue her steps,
Where'er her frenzy leads.

THEANO.
My help is ready.
And to thy guardian care I trust my brother,
Whom Creon threatens with immediate death.
Yet something whispers, something sure divine,
That other clouds of black events will break,
Ere a new morning rise on troubled Corinth,
And we surviving each portentous storm
Derive a sad security from horror.

SCENE the ELEVENTH.

LYCANDER and JASON.
LYCANDER.
Whate'er this mystic language may import,
Prince, give attention.

JASON.
Speak.

LYCANDER.
Thy only course
Is to embark from Corinth with Medea.

JASON.
It was my secret and determin'd purpose.

LYCANDER.
Nor yet a secret. Our suspicious tyrant,
If he could rule his discontented subjects,
Would stop thy passage. But thy just design
The public shall befriend by me alarm'd
At Creon's threat to violate the grove.

JASON.
Can I requite thee?

LYCANDER.
Let me serve thee first;
Requite me after, as my wants may dictate.
Is not thy father yonder?

JASON.
Let him come.
Go and expect me shortly on the beach.

SCENE the TWELFTH.

JASON and ÆSON.
ÆSON.
What have I heard? Th'exasperated king . . . .

JASON.
Hath told thee truth. His daughter I relinquish.

ÆSON.
Off with this bridal pageantry, which mocks
With gay delusion my disastrous age.
Reach me again my sable; from thy hand
I will receive it: from thy barb'rous hand
Let dust be sprinkled on my joyless head.
Nay, rather turn invincible against me;
Lock in that nervous gripe these snowy hairs;
And to the hov'ring eagles on the beach
Cast my disfigur'd reliques. Dost thou pause?
Think'st thou, that Jason's father will be seen
Decrepit, tott'ring with distress and years,
A vagabond, a suppliant for protection
Among the happier princes? No, my son,
Though not like thee the faulchion I can weild,
And mow my foes before me, I can die.

JASON.
Com'st thou with threat'nings? That tremendous goddess,
Whose piercing eye from yonder fane discerns
Guile in its naked shape through ev'ry garb,
And marks ingratitude for signal vengeance,
Knows, that we merit both to die: yet, dying,
We could not expiate our unmatch'd offence.

ÆSON.
What unaccustom'd, terrifying sterness
Frowns on that aspect? Gentle have I known thee
From infancy to manhood, ne'er before
Have felt thee dreadful.

JASON.
Ever from thy fears
Wilt thou take counsel? Can the voice of pity,
Benevolence and equity convey
No admonition? O exalt thy thoughts
From this base earth, the mansion of deceit,
Of perjuries and crimes. Erect thy visage
To Themis heav'n-thron'd patroness of justice.
Invoke her aid, that, strengthen'd, thou may'st hear,
Nor be confounded at thy son's resolves.
By no persuasion, artifice, or menace
My now-reviving dignity of mind
From its own summit shall again descend.

ÆSON.
What would my Jason?

JASON.
Take the holy priestess;
Repair to Creon; with united counsels
Him first from impious violence dissuade:
And then . . . .

ÆSON.
To whose protection must I fly?

JASON.
To mine. Abandon Corinth, and at Thebes
Not three day's march from these detested gates
Expect my presence. Hercules is there,
My friend, my soldier. He with ev'ry hero,
Who once obey'd my standard, will again
League their auxiliar swords and save Iolcos.
Let this suffice—If not—Persist no more.
Thy son is fix'd immoveable, as fate.

ÆSON.
[Thunder.
Thy mightier genius awes me. I submit.
We all are guilty—Juno so proclaims.
But Oh! amid these prodigies, my Jason,
Not one alarms me like the rude commotion,
Which shakes thy placid bosom. Be compos'd.
I will conduct Theano to the king.

SCENE the THIRTEENTH.

JASON
turning towards the temple.
Look down, connubial goddess, and with hope
Let thy appeas'd divinity indulge
A hero off'ring at thy holy shrine
His spirit humbled with repentant sighs.
You too attend, ye favourable gales,
And swiftly waft us to the kind embrace
Of our companion, Orpheus; who shall breathe
His tuneful consolation in a strain
Of grief-composing energy to charm
Distraction's rage, till new-born reason smile.
Then with her children lovely, as the mother,
Shall blooming Tempé on its flow'ry lap
Again receive her; while Peneus' stream
Blends with the flitting warblers on his banks
His murm'ring cadence to delight her ear:
And I once more along th'accustom'd vale
Shall by the lustre of the silent moon
Walk by her side attentive, while her tongue
Unfolds the pow'rs of heav'n's resplendent train,
Of magic numbers, and mysterious spels,
And feasts with knowledge my enraptur'd soul.

SCENE the FOURTEENTH.

COLCHIANS.
[Iambics.]
Sire of Æetes, god rever'd
By our forefathers on their sands
Bleach'd by the Euxin's restless foam,
Effulgent origin of day;
Who with illimitable view,
As from the amber-portal'd east
Thy coursers fiery-man'd proceed,
See'st the deep-bosom'd woes of men;
[Trochaics.]
Whether plac'd in mildest climes,
Or beneath thy sultry wheels,
Whether freezing near the pole,
All the various race of care.
[Iambics.]
Yet to thy sad paternal eye
Can this diversity of grief
Not one present through all thy course
To match thy own Medea's pain.
Lo! ev'ry flow'r of wisdom fades
Within her large and fertile breast,
A desart now by tempests rang'd,
The seat of wild discordant thoughts.
[Trochaics.]
God of wisdom and of light,
O relume her darken'd soul!
Let her, though begirt with ills,
Still thy progeny be known.