University of Virginia Library

2. Part Second.

—Medea in Corinth.
The Palace of Creon, Corinth—On one side the country; on the other side the city, with Medea's house.
Enter Chorus.
Chorus.
The bills have informed you, some years have passed by,
Since we parted in Colchis; then Colchian was I;
Now in Corinth, of course, I'm Corinthian, in order
To hold in this city the place of recorder.
Imprimis.—The King of this state is called Creon.
By the way, no relation to him whom you see on
The throne of old Thebes, the car celebrated
By Antigone check'd and Eurydice mated;
No, this is another guess sort of a person,
Whose daughter, fair Glauce's, a girl to write verse on.
Now it happens, you see, that Medea and Jason,
Whose conduct in Greece has brought both some disgrace on,
Came hither to court, and the libertine saucy
Begg'd Creon's permission to come to court Glauce,
And got it, by this very shameful duplicity—
Disturbing Medea's connubial felicity,
In a manner that really is most reprehensible
In a family man—in short, quite indefensible—
And in one so well knowing the lady's vivacity,
An act which says little for Jason's sagacity;
But here comes the Nurse, who is hired to take care of
The boys, which Medea has brought him a pair of.
She's a querulous, gossiping, ancient Greek gammer,
In matters of this sort as down as a hammer.

Enter Nurse.
Nurse.
Oh, that the hull of that fifty-oared cutter—the Argo,
Between the Symplegades, never had passed with its cargo!
Indeed, I may say that I wish, upon Pelion, the pine trees.
Of which it was built had remained, as they were, very fine trees;
For had there been never a boat in which man could have brought her,
My poor ill-used missis had never come over the water;
Nor—having, for that wicked Jason, cut all her connections—
Seen another young lady possessing her husband's affections.

Chorus.
Good woman, you seem in a terrible taking!
May I ask you if any more mischief is making?
Is there anything new, pray, respecting the scandal
To which our friend Jason is giving a handle?

Nurse.
As I was a-walking, just now, by the fount of Pirene,
I heard an old file say to another “I'll bet you a guinea
That Creon, in order to bring about his daughter's marriage,
Will pack off Medea and both her brats in a second class carriage,
Clean out of the kingdom.”

Chorus.
And does she suspect his intention?

Nurse.
I don't know, and to her I don't fancy the matter to mention;
She's half wild as it is, and quite crazy I think it would drive her,
To be passed to her parish without, in her pocket, a stiver.

Med.
(within)
O me! alas! alack, and well-day!

Nurse.
Hush, that's her voice—she's in a precious way!

Chorus.
Persuade her here awhile in verse to spout;
She seems in famous voice for singing out.

Nurse.
I'll do my best—but, when so loud you hear her,
It's rather dangerous to come a-near her.

(Exit)
Chorus.
She'll comb young Jason's wig—and serve him right!
I'll bet five talents he's been out all night.

Enter Medea.
Med.
Song—Medea—“The Fine Young English Gentleman.”

(Chorus advances)
Med.
(to Chorus)
Oh, thou Corinthian column of the nation,
Behold a woman driven to desperation.

Chorus.
Unhappy one! But you won't stand it, surely?

Med.
No! I will be revenged on all most purely,
But whatsoe'er my project, be thou dumb
As doleful Dido.

Chorus.
Madam, I am mum!
All decent people sure your side must be on—
But Creon comes to act a new decree on.

Enter Creon, attended.
Cre.
Madam, 'tis—

Chorus.
(to Creon)
Stop! Though in another wig,
D'ye think the public won't Æetes twig?
You, Creon?

Cre.
Now I am, and you should know it;
I play two parts to-night.

Chorus.
Oh, well then, go it.
'Twas to prevent confusion—don't be nettled.

Cre.
The bills already have the matter settled;
Therefore, thou most inveterate of praters,
Close up the trap through which you put your taters.
(to Medea)
Madam, 'tis not my custom to mince matters,
So have the goodness to pack up your tatters;
And, with your brats, pack off, in less than no time.

Med.
Banished! (aside)
But I'll dissemble, and gain so time.
(aloud)
May I of this new crotchet ask the reason?

Cre.
We do suspect that you are up to treason;
And, as to cut our throat you might incline,
We take a stitch in time that may save nine.

Med.
Who can believe such thought I ever nurst?
I, kill a king?

Cre.
It wouldn't be the first.
Remember Pelias!

Med.
A vile aspersion!
His daughters killed him.

Cre.
That's a mere assertion.

Med.
I swear it.

Cre.
Poo, poo, you know well enough.

Med.
Indeed, great sir, they gave him the wrong stuff.

Cre.
By your prescription.

Med.
Granted,—but his case
They had mis-stated, and had then the face
To throw on me the guilt of their omission;
So patients die, and blamed is the physician.
I brought from home with me a drug which some
Call (as I come from Colchis) Colchicum;
Arrived in Greece, as you have heard no doubt,
I found old Æson, crippled with the gout;
Because I cured him with this novel physic,
They drenched a man with it who'd got the phthisic;
And when I recommended venesection,
They slashed away at him in each direction;
Truth is, he'd made his will, his daughters knew it,
Thought that he'd cut up well, and chose to do it.

Cre.
Supposing all you've said the truth to be,
I've made up my mind you shan't physic me;
You are a dab, I know, at hocus pocus,
But off this point you'll find it hard to choke us,
So quit the building without more ado.

Med.
Good gracious, Creon! this is not like you.
A sovereign none would change, whilst they could own one!
The most gallant of monarchs fate has shewn one!
The capital of this Corinthian order!

Cre.
Begone, I charge you, none of your soft solder;
Your downy words don't weigh with me a feather.

Med.
Grant me a week to get my traps together?

Cre.
To set your traps, you mean, to catch your prey;
I think I catch myself—

Med.
Then but a day—
One little day, to get the boys some shoes,
You are yourself a father, don't refuse.
Their own unnatural daddy doesn't care for 'em;
And fit to travel in, I've not a pair for 'em;
Have pity on such little soles as theirs,
Nor see them bootless as their mother's prayers!

Cre.
Well, for their sakes I'll grant that brief delay,
You can't much mischief make in one short day.

Med.
(aside)
Can't I?

Cre.
'Tis folly in me to retract,
But I'm too tender-hearted, that's a fact;
So mind, till sunset you may go a-shopping,
But after dark, Medea, you'd best be hopping;
For here if but another sun has seen 'em,
I'll hang the two you have, and you between them.

Trio—Creon, Medea, and Chorus—“Midas.”
Cre.
Would you live another day, ma'am,
I'd advise you off to trot;
If you like it better—stay, ma'am,
If you like it better—stay, ma'am,
But if you do—you'd better not.
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

Med.
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

Chorus.
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

Med.
(to Creon)
From you I can hope no quarter,
So to move I can't refuse.
But I think I see his daughter—
(aside to Chorus)
But I think I see his daughter—
Standing in Medea's shoes!
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

Chorus.
(aside) to Medea)
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

All.
Fol de rol de rol, &c.

(Exit Creon, attended)
Med.
Now for revenge! Here comes perfidious Jason,
I wonder he can dare to look my face on.

Enter Jason.
Jas.
So, madam, not content with me abusing,
The royal family you've been traducing;
Your foolish jealousy has wrecked you quite,
I'm sorry for you, but it serves you right.

Med.
And this to me, to thy devoted wife!
To me, who saved thy honour and thy life;
When between two mad bulls, 'twas but a toss up?
To me, who made of all thy friends the loss up?
Who doomed the dragon to a fate forlorner
Than any dragon fête at Hyde Park Corner;
Who, for thy sake, all filial love could smother,
Who suffered thee to lick her little brother?
Ungrateful Greek, false, flirting, perjured Jason!
The earth there lives no mortal wretch so base on.

Jas.
It pains me that a person of condition
Should of herself make such an exhibition;
I own you got me out of some few hobbles,
But I'm quite sick of these domestic squabbles,
And have no talent for recrimination;
My lawyer's drawn a deed of separation,
And if you'll sign it, and not make a noise,
I'll settle something handsome on the boys.

Med.
My boys; ah, there you touch a mother's heart;
Well, when folks can't agree, 'tis best to part.
Be mine the punishment, as mine the sin is—
Why should it fall upon the piccaninies?

Jas.
A la bonne heure—now, madam, you talk sense,
I'm vexed you gave my friend, the King, offence.
And as to Glauce—

Med.
Oh, don't name that creature!
I heard her say, “If your wife bores you, beat her.”

Jas.
You quite mistook her—the reverse meant she—
Beta, in Greek, you know, is “Letter B.”

Med.
I stand corrected, and am all submission,
And to prove how sincere is my contrition,
Some relics of my former rank and station,
Which, now to look upon were but vexation,
I'll beg her to accept in recollection
Of one who once possessed your heart's affection.
The splendid polka, richly bordered o'er,
Which at our last grand fancy ball I wore,
And a galvanic ring, of virtue rare,
From all rheumatic pains to guard the fair!

Jas.
But, silly woman, why give them away?

Med.
What now to me are rings or rich array?
What right, what heart have I to cut a splash?

Jas.
But you might pop them if in want to cash.

Med.
Pop them?—

Jas.
Of course, tho' cast off by your father,
Your uncle might assist you.

Med.
I would rather
Perish than pawn such precious things, or see
The pride of one ball made the spoil of three!

Jas.
If you are bent on it, why be it so.

Med.
Farewell.

Jas.
You'll sign the deed before you go?

Med.
Trust me. We part in peace?

Jas.
Oh, by all means;
I don't bear malice, and I can't bear scenes;
I'll send my lawyer to you with the papers.
(aside)
I vow the woman's given me the vapours!

Med.
(aside)
I'll burn the writings, cut off thro' the sky,
And leave them all in their own Greece to fry.

(Exit)
Jas.
Song—Jason—“Vivi tu”—“Anna Bolena.”

(Exit)
Enter Medea.
Med.
Go, vile deceiver, now in turn deceived—
To be bereft by her thou hast bereaved
Of all thy faithless heart now holds most dear—
Psuche, my soul!
Enter Nurse.
Conduct the children here,
And from my old portmanteau let them bring
The crimson polka and the magic ring.

Nurse.
Madam, I go. (aside)
Some one will catch a Tartar.

(Exit)
Chorus.
(advancing)
Madam, what are you at? What are you arter?

Med.
A bridal gift for Glauce I'm preparing.

Chorus.
And one, no doubt, she'll be the worse for wearing.

Med.
You may say that, with your own ugly mug,
But not aloud, for all must be kept snug,
Till the revenge hatched in this brain creative
Flares up sky-high! astonishing each native!
Enter Nurse, with the two Children, the ring, and the mantle.
Ah, they are here! My darlings, oh, my pets!
Your mother into fiddle-strings it frets,
To think how hard a rod Fate has in pickle;
“Toby, or not Toby” soon made to tickle.
Be ye the bearers of these gifts to Glauce,
Make your best bows, and be by no means saucy:
Beg her to wear them for Medea's sake.
They'll fit her for her pains, and no mistake!
Away—
(Exit Nurse, with Children and presents)
Now fast around my spells shall fall
And soon play up old gooseberry with all.

Song—Chorus—“Fall of Paris.”
(retires)

Re-enter Nurse, with Children, meeting Medea.
Nurse.
Oh, missis, missis, you must cut and run!

Med.
Why, what's the matter?

Nurse.
We are all undone!

Med.
Does Glauce spurn my gifts?

Nurse.
Oh, would she had—
She took 'em in, as you have her.

Med.
I'm glad
To hear it. Tell me all, how do they fit her?

Nurse.
Fit her! she's frying in them, like a fritter.

Med.
She stole my flame, and now in flames she lingers,
And with my wedding ring she's burnt her fingers.
The tyrant, Creon, too, does he not frizzle?

Nurse.
He does—and so will you, unless you mizzle,
For all the palace now begins to blaze.
Oh, jump into a jarvey or a chaise,
A boat, a barge, a cab, or anything;
But don't stay here, unless you'd burn or swing.

Med.
Fly—save thyself; I've still a deed to do
No mortal eye may see, save my own two.
(Exit Nurse)
Yes, my poor children—yes, it must be done,
Your fate it is impossible to shun.

Chorus.
What would you do to them? Say, I implore.

Med.
(drawing a rod from out the sheath of dagger)
That which I never did to them before.

Chorus.
Whip 'em? Oh, wherefore? Is the woman mad?
What is their crime?

Med.
They are too like their dad!

(snatches up Children and exit)
Chorus.
'Tis plain her wrongs have driven her wild, or will.
Help, Jason, help!

Enter Jason.
Jas.
How now? What more of ill
Has Jason now to dread? The King's a cinder;
My match is broken off—my bride is tinder;
And I am left, a poor, unhappy spark,
To go out miserably in the dark.
Where is the wicked worker of these woes?

Chorus.
Inflicting, now, the heaviest of blows
Upon thy children.

Jas.
On my children—where?

Chorus.
Behind, of course.

Children.
(within)
Oh, mother, mother!

Chorus.
There!
You hear them?

Jas.
(rushes to door)
Paralysed with awe I stand—
Medea, hold, oh, hold thy barbarous hand;
The door is fast, where shall I find a crow?

Chorus.
You have one—

Jas.
Where?

Chorus.
To pluck with her, you know.

Jas.
I mean an iron crow, to force the gate
Which she has bolted.

Med.
(within)
Fool, thou art too late!

Jas.
Too late, by Jove! She's bolted, too—despair!

Nurse.
(entering)
Gone in a dragon-fly, no soul knows where.

Jas.
A dragon fly! How dare she so presume!
A witch's carriage ought to be a broom.

Chorus.
I said that she was flighty, and she's fled.
Thunder, &c.—The Palace sinks, and Medea is seen in a chariot drawn by two fiery dragons, amidst the clouds.
The palace sinks—behold her there instead.

Jas.
Thou wicked sorceress—thou vile magician!
Come out, I say, and meet thy just punition.

Med.
I told you I would play the very devil,
If to another you should dare be civil;
I've done the deed—didst thou not hear a noise?

Jas.
Barbarian, I heard you flog the boys.

Med.
I didn't flog 'em—I but made believe.

Chorus.
Oh, shame! the very Chorus to deceive.

Med.
Stand up, my darlings. (shews Children)
See, thou traitor, here is
Thy eldest, Mermerus—thy youngest, Pheres;
I bear them to the land of Erectheus,
By special invitation of Egeus.
To a Greek grammar school he means to send them,
And pay a private tutor to attend them.
Now hear the fate, false Jason, which shall fall
Upon thy head, thou wicked cause of all;
A timber of the Argo, that old barque,
Now rotting there, above high-water mark,
Clean out thy dull Bœotian brains shall dash.

Jas.
Shiver my timbers, that will be a smash!

Med.
So shall the craft, of which thou wert the master,
Punish the craft that caused all my disaster.

Jas.
And what will be thy fate, thou cruel fury?

Med.
My fate depends alone on the grand jury,
To whom the bill presented is to-night;
I fairly own I'm in an awful fright.
But if against me they don't find a true bill,
The Manager may not soon want a new bill.
(to Audience)
Do you but smile, “The Golden Fleece” we win.
“One touch of nature makes the whole world grin.”

Finale—“Post Horn Galop.”
Chorus.

Med.
(to her Children)

Chorus.

Jas.
(to Medea)

Chorus.

All.

Medea (in chariot)
Chorus.
Jason.