University of Virginia Library

Act III.

Scene I.

Enter Nurse, following Medea running frantick over the Stage.
NURSE.
Ah! whither rapt with eager speed away
Dear Charge? hold, curb thy Rage, thy Fury stay!
As when some frantick Fro, whom Bacchus mads,
Trots her wild Entheous Dance, and raving gads
On Pindus snowy Top, or Nysa's Crown:
So here, now there, she hurries up and down,
As if with a Lymphatick Rage possest.
Her Looks attracting Fervour from her Breast.
Cries, O you Gods! then weeps, now smiles again;
And all the Symptoms of a troubled Brain
Discovers; doubts, threatens, with Anger boils,
Laments and sighs; Oh! to what Centre toils
This Weight of Cares? these Threats where will she wreak?
Or where will this high Sea of Fury break?
Which like an Inundation swells: No low
Nor vulgar Mischief she intends; t'out-go
Her self she seeks: we know full well, her old
Distempers Signs; some eminently bold,
Horridly impious Act, she plots: 't appears
In her fell Looks: The Gods deceive our Fears.

Scene II.

Enter MEDEA.

Nu.
Thy Mind reclaim,
Thy Heart, with Griefs disturbed, pacify.

Me.
“No thought of Rest, till, with our own, we see
“A general Ruine; perish if we shall,
“Perish all else; We will not singly fall.

Nu.
See how great Dangers thy Attempts oppose!
“'Gainst potent Opposites none safely goes.

Scene III.

Enter JASON.

Me.
We flie! Jason, we flie! for us to change
Seats, is not new; the Cause is new and strange.
For thee we us'd, but now from thee we flie.
Whom thus from your Abodes inforce you hie?
To whom dost send us? shall we Phasis Flood,
Colchos and our Sire's Realms, or Fields with Blood
Of slaughter'd Brother stain'd, go seek? what Lands,
What Seas must we find out at thy Commands?
The Pontick Straits? through which that Princely Train
We safe brought home; when through th'incensed Main
And dangerous Symplegades, we fled
With thee, now turn'd Adulterer to our Bed?
Shall we for small Iolcos make? or steer
Unto Thessalian Tempe? what ways e'er
To thee we open'd, 'gainst our selves we clos'd.
Then whither send y' us? to what Lands expos'd?
To Exile, an exiled Wretch is sent
And yet no place assign'd for Banishment.
Yet go we must, so to command seems fit
To Creon's Son-in-law, and we submit.
Inflict on us the worst of Cruelties,
We have deserv'd. Let Creon exercise
The bloodiest Tortures Tyranny e'er bred,
To plague a Strumpet to his Daughter's Bed.
Load us with Irons; and shut us from all Light
In a dark Dungeon of eternal Night:
Yet shall we suffer less than we deserve.
Ingrateful Wretch! think (if thy Heart will serve
To let thee) of the Flame-breath'd Bulls; the Field
Which Armies of Arm-bearing Foes did yield.
When, at our sole Command, those Earth-born Bands
Mutually fell by their self-slaught'ring Hands.
To these, add the Phryxean Rams rich Prize,
And sleepless Dragon charm'd; whose wakeful Eyes
Obey'd Sleep's unknown Pow'r: our Brother slain,
Mischief with Mischiefs re inforc'd again.
Fraud-blinded Daughters urged to divide
Their Parents Limbs, unto new Life deny'd.
And our own Kingdoms for a Stranger's Crown
Deserted; by what Hopes soe'er you own
Of your dear Children; by the Certainty
Of thy new-fix'd Abodes; and Victory
O'er vanquisht Monsters; by these Hands of ours
Ne'er spar'd for thee t'imploy their utmost Pow'rs.
By fore-past Fears; Heav'ns, Seas (the Witnesses
Of our wrong'd Nuptials) pity our Distress.
And in thy happy state, to us that crave
Render the Comfort thou would'st wish to have.
Of all the Wealth by Scythians rapt away
From Sun-scorch'd Dwellers of rich India,
Too narrow an Exchequer for whose Store,
Our whole Court seems; with whose superfluous Ore
W'adorn the Woods and Groves; no part brought we
But our slain Brother's Limbs, and those on thee
Impended; Country, Father, Brother, Shame.
With this Dowre wed; parting, restore the same.

Jas.
When wrathful Creon sought thy Life to have,
Mov'd by our Tears, for Death he Exile gave.

Me.
We Exile thought a Punishment; but now
We find, that, for a Favour you allow.

Jas.
Whilst yet thou may'st, get thee from hence convey'd;
“The Wrath of Kings is Heavy.

Me.
You persuade
This to endear you in Creusa's Love;
You seek a hated Strumpet to remove.

Jas.
Objects Medea Love?

Me.
And Treachery,
And Murder too.

Jas.
What Crime is there, 'gainst me
Thou can'st object, deserves so foul a Blame?

Me.
All that we ever did.

Jas.
Then 'tis your Aim
T'involve us in the Guilt of your Misdeeds.

Me.
Those, those are thine. “He to whose Gain succeeds
“The Ill, is the Ill's Author. Tho our Fame
All should oppose, thou ought'st defend the same,
And say we're blameless: “He should guiltless be
“In thy Repute, is guilty made for thee.

Jas.
“That Life's a burthen, which enjoy'd brings Shame.

Me.
That Life discharge, enjoy'd with Loss of Fame.

Jas.
Rather appease thy Wrath-incensed Breast,
For thy poor Childrens sakes;

Me.
No, we detest,
Abjure the thought; What? shall Creusa live,
And Brothers to Medea's Children give?

Jas.
'Twill be an Honour when our exil'd Race,
A Queen, shall with her kindred Issue grace.

Me.
Come never so unfortunate a Day
To the already wretched, with Allay
Of baser Blood, to mix our noble Line.
Phœbus with Sisyphus his Nephews join.

Jas.
Why seek'st thou Ruine on us both to bring?
Let me intreat thee to depart.

Me.
The King
Could yet vouchsafe to hear us speak.

Jas.
Declare
What's in my Pow'r to do for thee.

Me.
Me! dare
Any Mischief.

Jas.
On either Hand, see here
Two potent Kings.

Me.
Than those a greater fear,
Behold Medea! let us exercise
Our Pow'rs, and Jason be the Victor's Prize.

Jas.
Weary'd with Miseries, I yield; forbear;
So often try'd, the turn of Fortune fear.

Me.
Mistress of Fortune we have ever been.

Jas.
Acastus there; here Creon's nearer Spleen
Threatens Destruction.

Me.
Void thou either's Harms:
Not 'gainst thy Father-i'-law to rise in Arms,
Of stain with Kindreds Blood thy Innocence,
Medea wills. Guiltless with her fly hence.

Jas.
Who shall oppose, if they their Pow'rs combine,
And 'gainst us with united Forces join?

Me.
Add Colchians too; Æeta General;
Scythians with Grecians join; we'll foil them all.

Jas.
I potent Sceptres dread.

Me.
Rather take heed
Y'affect them not.

Jas.
Lest this our Conference breed
Suspect, let's here cut short our long Discourse.

Me.
Now Jove, o'er all the Heav'ns thy Thunder force,
Stretch forth thy Hand, thy vengeful Flames prepare,
And from crackt Clouds the World with Horror scare.
Nor with delib'rate Aim level thy Throw,
Take him or me: which of us each the Blow
Shall sink, will guilty fall; if at us cast,
Thy Thunder cannot miss.

Jas.
Resume at last
More sober Thoughts, Language more mild; if ought
In Creon's Court, in Exile may be thought
Easeful to thee, ask and the ask'd;d-for have.

Me.
Thou know'st we can, and use with Scorn to wave
The Wealth of Kings; we only wish we might
Our Children have Companions in our flight;
That in their Bosoms we our Tears may shed.
More Sons thou may'st expect from thy new Bed.

Jas.
I must confess me willing to comply
With thy Desires; forbid by Piety.
Nor could I suffer this, tho Creon's Pow'r
Should force me to't. For this alone implore
I Life; of all my Cares the only Ease,
Sooner I could want Breath, Limbs, Light, than these.

Me.
Loves he his Children so! 'tis well, we ha't;
Now we know where to wound him—We hope yet
We may our last Words in their mindful Breasts
Implant; embrace; seems this a just Request?
This too, we with our latest Speech intreat,
What our rash Grief hath utter'd, you'd forget,
And a more favourable Memory
Of us retain; all Passions buried be.

Jas.
All, all's forgot by us; and here we pray
Thou may'st the Fervour of thy Mind allay,
And gentle Curb unto thy Passions give.
“Patience is Misery's best Lenitive,

Exit.
Me.
Gone! is't e'en so? hast thou forgotten me?
And all my Merits, slipt from thy Memory?
No; we will ne'er slip thence. Now mind thy Part;
Summon together all thy Strength and Art.
'Tis thy best use of Ills to think there's none.
Scarce will there Opportunity be shown
T'effect our Treachery. Our Plots they fear.
Run then a Course from all Suspicion clear.
Begin, Medea! for thy Task prepare;
And what thou can'st, and what thou canst not, dare.
O faithful Nurse! whom Chance with us hath made
Partner in Woes; our wretched Counsel aid.
A Robe we have, our Kingdom's Ornament;
As Pledge of his Etherial Descent,
By Sol t'Æeta giv'n: a Carquanet
With Gold enchac'd, and a rich Coronet
Set with bright Gems; these to the new-wed Bride
My Sons shall bear; first with dire Tinctures dy'd.
Invoke we Hecate; our sad Rites frame,
The Altars strow; now crack this Roof in flame.

Exit.
CHORUS.