 | Medea |  |
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.
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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.
| Medea | |