 | Medea |  |
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.
70
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. . . .
71
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
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Why do I measure folly back to folly,
And here degrade my honours and renown
With boasts resembling thine? Farewel forever.
| Medea | |