Part 4 (2/2)

Medea has entered ic has been successful The nurse, seeing her, and fearing for her mistress, exclai flight!

_Medea_ Thou bidst ht? Nay, rather, had I fled, I should return for this Strange bridal rites I see!

But now, forgetful of all around her, she becomes absorbed in her own meditations And here follows apassions in a hu forces are ed wife And when the mother-love is at last vanquished, we may be sure that all the wo scene of the play portrays--an incarnate fury

_Medea_ Why dost thou falter, O un; But still how sives thee present joy? Not yet has love Been banished froh That Jason ed be Pursue thy vengeful quest To acts as yet unknown, and steel thyself for these

Aith every thought and fear of God and htly falls the rod that pious hands upbear

Give passion fullest sway; exhaust thy ancient powers; And let the worst thou yet hast done be innocent Beside thy present deeds Coht Were those thy crireater deeds For what could hands untrained in crie? But now, I am Medea; in the bitter school of woe My powers have ripened

This mood culminates in an ecstasy of madness as she dwells upon her former successful deeds of blood

O the bliss of memory!

My infant brother slain, his limbs asunder rent, My royal father spoiled of his ancestral realhters lured to slay their sire!

But here ITo execute my deeds

But now, by what approach, Or by eapon wilt thou threat the treacherous foe?

Deep hidden in my secret heart have I conceived A purpose which I dare not utter O I fear That in one too far-- I would that children had been born to hiained his heart, His children too are hers-- That punish and deserved

Yes, now I see the final deed of crime, and thou, My soul, must face it You, who once were called my sons, Must pay the penalty of these your father's cri chill pervades My li fear

Norath gives place, and, heedless of my husband's sins, The tender mother-instinct quite possesses me

And could I shed my helpless children's blood? Not so, O say not so, ht be that unna of their wretched blood Would wash away?

Their sin--that Jason is their sire, And, deeper guilt, that I have borne them Let them die; They are not mine--Nay, nay, they are uilt--Full innocent they are, 'Tis true: my brother too was innocent O soul, Why dost thou hesitate? Why flow these strea heart is torn?

As when conflicting winds contend in stubborn strife, And waves, to stormy waves opposed, the sea invade, And to their lowest sands the briny waters boil: With such a storm my heart is tossed Hate conquers love, And love puts irief, To love! Then co within thy mother's close embrace Unharmed Your sire may keep you, while your mother holds you too

But she remembers, even as she embraces her children, that this is her last eht and exile drive me forth! And even now My children must be torn aith tears and cries-- Then let them die to Jason since they're lost to me

Once more has hate resumed her sway, and passion's fire Is hot within my soul Now fury, as of yore, Reseeks her own Lead on, I follow to the end!

I would that I had borne twice seven sons, the boast Of Niobe! But all too barren have I been

Still will my two sufficient be to satisfy My brother and ht, as one who sees a dreadful vision

But whither hastes that throng Of furies? What their quest? What mean their brandished fires?

Whom threats this hellish host with horrid, bloody brands?