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432  HARRIETTE FANNING READ.

And wrath of gods, I could endure, nor waste
A care on them, so Jason lived and loved!

JASON.
The fiend Remorse is busy at my heart.
Can I again inspire such love, or lives
A woman, save Medea, in whose soul
A passion ardent, pure, as this can burn?  [Aside.]

MEDEA.
My lord, why on this day is thy brow sad?

JASON.
Men oft have cares which women need not share.

MEDEA.
Hath Jason cares Medea cannot share?
Ah! strange and heavy should that sorrow be 
Which clouds thy heart from mine,
Why speak'st thou not?  Since first our fates were join'd.
Ne'er hast thou known a care or braved a toil
Which by my love has not been lighter made,
Or vanquish'd by my skill.

JASON.
Medea, list!
Not grateful is it to a warrior's ear,
That even a wife should boast her benefits:
Remembrance is his part, and silence hers.

MEDEA.
Thou knows't that mine is not the ignoble soul
Which prompts a boaster's tongue. I boast of naught
Save of thy love, which made me what I am,
Thy equal partner, not thy household slave,—
As Grecian dames to Grecian lords must be,—
But worthy deem'd by thee to aid thy councils,
To share thy wanderings, and assuage thy woes.
I boast my husband when I talk of these.
Tell me, what care opresses thee?

HARRIETTE FANNING READ.  433

JASON.
Not long
Wilt thou remain in ignorance.

MEDEA.
I felt
Thou couldst not long exclude me from thy heart.
Why does the darkness deepen on thy brow?
Thou 'rt ill!  Thou canst not hide it from thy wife,—
From her, who, taught by love, reads in thy glance
Each shade of joy and pain.  Surely thou 'rt ill!

JASON.
Not ill, Medea, not oppress'd with cares
Beyond my own poor skill to overcome.
Content thee, thou mistak'st.

MEDEA.
I am content,
If for Medea's sake thou 'lt clear thy brow,
And greet this day with smiles.

JASON.
And why this day?

MEDEA.
Is Jason's heart so changed, that he forgets
The day which once he hail'd with fondest joy?
If thou forgett'st, ah! why should I remember
That on this day I fled my native shores,—
My father's court, where I was a queen,—
Left all for Love, and in his smile found all?

MEDEA'S REVENGE.

MEDEA.
VENGEANCE hath had her perfect rites!  Now, now,
Welcome, ye hounds of Corinth!—for I hear
Your distant voices clamouring for the prey—
Welcome!  A woman's and a mother's hand

37  2c

Transcription Notes:
---------- Reopened for Editing 2023-06-29 21:44:32