 | Medea |  |
Scene I.
Enter MEDEA, and her NURSE.MEDEA.
Oh! I am slain; the Hymeneal's Sound
Hath pierc'd my Ears, and giv'n my Heart a Wound.
The Ill I suffer, I scarce yet believe.
And thus could Jason cause Medea grieve?
When from my Father, Countrey, Crown, and State
H' had brought me, thus, to leave me desolate
In a strange Land; could he our Merits slight?
Cruel, and thankless Wretch! whose pow'rful Might
Seas Rage, he saw, and Force of Flames out-went?
Thinks he then all our stock of Mischief spent?
Perplex'd and wav'ring, my unquiet Mind
Labours, which way she may her Vengeance find.
Would Heav'ns he had a Brother! Stay; a Wife
He has; let's then attempt against her Life,
21
If Greek, or Barbarous Towns, (in Villanies
Skilled) have known a Mischief, such as thou
Medea, yet nee'r knew'st, or practic'dst, now,
Now attempt the like. Let thy Resolves find
Counsel from thy own Ills; call to thy mind
The signal Glory of the Colchian Crown
Made prize; thy Brother's Limbs dissected, thrown
About the Seas; sad Funeral to his Sire!
Think on old Pelias boiling o'er the Fire.
22
Did we act Ills in Rage; Love's Rage we bear.
'Las what could Jason do, at the dispose
Of a Superiour Power?—His Breast oppose
T'a Murthering Sword.—Ah! better Words afford
My passionate Griefs; rather, so Fates accord,
May he live still my Jason as before.
If not, yet may he live; mindful of poor
Medea, to whose Love his Life's a Debt.
The Fault was wholly Creons: by whose great
O'er-ruling Power, our Marriage-bands he brake;
He did the Mother from her Children take,
He cancell'd our strict-plighted Faith; He, he,
The Butt of our deserved Vengeance be.
Ill bury his proud Palace in a high
Heap of Ashes, whilst the black Clouds that flie
Of Flame-driv'n Smoak, Malea shall amaze
Which storm-beat Vessels puts to long delays.
23
For love of Heav'n be silent, and restrain
Passion to recluse Sorrow; “who sustain
“Wrongs that oppress 'em, with a quiet Mind
“And unmov'd Thoughts, know best the way to find
“How to repay 'em. Anger kills, conceal'd;
“Hates miss of their Revenge, when once reveal'd.
Me.
“That Grief's but small which Counsel can oe'r-sway;
I'll meet all Opposites.
Nu.
Thy Fury stay
Dear Daughter; scarce a still Retiredness
Secure thee can, open Attemps much less,
Me.
“Fortune the Valiant fears; but tramples on
“The coward Soul.
Nu.
“Then Resolution
“Is good, when the Attempt is possible.
Me.
“What
“To Courage, and a Mind resolv'd, is not?
Nu.
“No Hope a Remedy t'a lost Affair
“Do's shew.
Me.
“Who nought can hope, should nought despair.
24
The Colchians hate thee, in thy Spouse no Faith
There is; of all thy vast store, Fortune hath
Not left thee ought.
Me.
Yes, here's Medea still,
Here Seas, Earth, Fire, Gods, Thunder, what can kill
As well as Steel, behold.
Nu.
Th'incensed Ire
O'th' King yet's to be fear'd
Me.
What was our Sire?
Nu.
Fear'st thou not force of Arms?
Me.
Not tho from Earth
They sprung, and took from thence their hostile Birth.
Nu.
Thou'lt suffer Death.
Me.
'Tis that we wish.
Nu.
Be led
At my Request to flie.
Me.
That I e'er fled
I grieve; Medea flie!
Nu.
Think what thou art
A Mother.
Me.
Yes, by whom, you see.
Nu.
To part
Hence doubt'st thou?
Me.
No; we'll go, but first revenge.
Nu.
Th'Avenger will pursue
Me.
It will be strange
25
Nu.
Suppress
These Menaces, rash Woman, and redress
Thy Pertinacious Thoughts; comply with Fate.
Me.
Fortune may ravish from me my Estate,
My mind she never can. But heark! I hear
The Palace Doors to creek; who is't draws near?
'Tis Creon, the proud Tyrant, Creon, high
Elated with Pelasgian Royalty.
| Medea | |