ACT III
[Medea is rushing out to seek vengeance, while the Nurse tries in vain
to restrain her.]
Nurse: My foster-daughter, whither speedest thou abroad? 380
Oh, stay, I pray thee, and restrain thy passion's force.
[Medea hastens by without answering. The Nurse soliloquizes.]
As some wild Bacchanal, whose fury's raging fire
The god inflames, now roams distraught on Pindus' snows,
And now on lofty Nysa's rugged slopes; so she, 385
Now here, now there, with frenzied step is hurried on,
Her face revealing every mark of stricken woe,
With flushing cheek and sighs deep drawn, wild cries, and tears,
And laughter worse than tears. In her a medley strange
Of every passion may be seen: o'ertopping wrath, 390
Bewailings, bitter groans of anguish. Whither tends
This overburdened soul? What mean her frenzied threats?
When will the foaming wave of fury spend itself?
No common crime, I fear, no easy deed of ill
She meditates. Herself she will outvie. For well
I recognize the wonted marks of rage. Some deed
Is threatening, wild, profane, and hideous. 395
[Re-enter Medea.]
Behold
Her face betrays her madness. O ye gods, may these
Our fears prove vain forebodings!
Medea [not noticing the Nurse's presence]: For thy hate, poor soul,
Dost thou a measure seek? Let it be deep as love.
And shall I tamely view the wedding torches's glare?
And shall this day go uneventful by, this day,
So hardly won, so grudgingly bestowed? Nay, nay, 400
While, poised upon her heights, the central earth shall bear
The heavens up; while seasons run their endless round,
And sands unnumbered lie; while days, and nights, and sun,
And stars in due procession pass; while round the pole
The ocean-fearing bears revolve, and tumbling streams
Flow downward to the sea; my grief shall never cease 405
To seek revenge, and shall forever grow. What rage
Of savage beast can equal mine? What Scylla famed?
