Collected Works (Vol. II)

ACTUS QUINTUS 119 JASON. To Corinth! MEDEA. Creon bears The name of favourable to suppliants. ACASTUS. liow virtue tames these tameless ones! To-day I am indeed a man. MEDEA. Thou brainless boy ! Thus, thus, and thus I smite thee on the cheek— Thus, thus I spit upon thy face. Out, dog! SEMICHORUS I. His patience shows as something marvellous. SEMICHORUS 2. Virtue takes insult from the fortuneless. MEDEA. The curse of Ares dog you into Hades! I have my reasons [dowdtfully), ay, my reasons ‘plain ! Going, not forced. CHORUS. Yet going—that is good | JASON, To Corinth! Bride of my own heart, Medea, Well hast thou put thy power off for the time Preferring love to pomp, and peace to revel— MEDEA. And the soft cushions of the moss-grown trees To royal pillows, and the moon’s young light To gaudy lamps of antique workmanship— JASON. And music of the birds to harps of gold Struck by unwilling fingers for gold coin. MEDEA. Come! lest the curse I call upon this house Eat us up also! May the red plague rot Their bones! I lift my voice and prophesy : The curse shall never leave this house of fear ; But one by treachery shall slay another, And vengeance shall smite one, and one lay bare oe Her breasts in vain for love: until the house Perish in uttermost red ruin. CHORUS, Bah ! Speared wild-cats bravely spit ! JASON. | To Creon, come! MADNESS. Black Ares hath chosen Me wisely, to send A doom deep-frozen. From now to the end, Never the curse Shall pass from the house, But gather a worse Hate for a spouse. The lovers are better Escaped from my toils Than these in the fetter Of the golden spoils. Yet still lies a doom For the royal lovers. Time bears in her womb That darkness covers A terror, and waits The hour that is Fate’s. The work is done. Let miracle inspire Tolchian voices to the holy hymn, Praise to black Ares, echo of this doom.