JASON

When Creon in malicious mood had thought thee to have slain, Entreated with my tears, exile and life he gave to thee. While thou hast time to go, be gone, for most Severe, and harden The kings displeasure ever is. Dost thou Medea upbraid me with the breach kind of love? When all is done what canst thou say my guiltiness to stain? Yet more this does remain: That thy ungracious wickedness of harm should me accuse. The life is loathsome that does work his shame who hath it chosen. Let reason rule thy eager mind so vexed with crabbed ire, And for thy tender children's ease to be at rest require. It will be trim, when as a Queen of majesty and might Hath issue, kin unto the seed of thee a banish wight. What meanest thou wretch, both thee & me in banishment to yoke? I pray then hence. What lies in my might To do for thee? On this side with his sword in hand king Creon does me car: On other partly with armed host Acast does me detarre. I yield whom soar adversities have tyerd with heavy sway. Learn thou to dreaded thy luclesse lot that oft does thee assay. Achastus is at hand, and nigh is Creon thee to spill: When armies twain their banners of defiance shall display, And marching forth in field to fight seek battle at my hand, Who then for us encounter shall their puissance to withstand? The puissant power of haughty mace I fear. Least some suspicion grow, Of this our tattling long here let us make and end and go. Fie, let thy mind on matters run that seem a modest wight. And use to have more cheerful talk, if any thing thou crave, Within my father's house to ease thy flight, thou shalt it have. I grant that unto thy request I wish I might obey: But nature me with pity pricks, that needs I must deny. For though both Creon and Achast, in torments force me lie, I could not yield unto their wills: on this my life does rest: In times of tears, this is the joy of dull afflicted breast For better far I can abide the want of vital breath, And succour of my limbs, or lose, the light of world by death. I have forgotten every whit God grant thou may of shake, These surging qualms of frounced mind & milder mayste it make: For quietness does work their ease that dented are with woe: If any faithful man here be, whom ruin of his land, And slaughter of his Prince do cause in pens we heart to bleed, Step forth that ye may take the wretch that wrought this deadly deed. Here, here, ye jolly champions lay load with weapons here, Have now, hoist up this house, from low Foundation up it rear. Lo here she looks out, and leans upon the houses frame, That pitchlong hangs with falling sway: here heap your fierce fast, Whereby the flames that she her self enkindled, may her wast. By all the sacred ghosts of heaven, and by thy oft exile, And spousal bed, which breach of love in me did not defile, Now spare, and save the life of him my child and also thine: What ever crime committed is, I grant it to be mine: Make me a bloody sacrifice to Due deserved death, Take from my sinful guilty head the use of vital breath. Let one for Due revenge suffice. Now finish out thy deadly deed, that enterprised is, No more entreatance will I use, yet only grant me this, Delay awhile his doleful death, that I may take my flight. Least that mine eyes w to bleeding heart should view that heavy sighed. Oh vile malicious minded wretch my loathsome life destroy. Go through the ample spaces wide, infect the poisoned Air, Bear witness, grace of God is none in place of thy repair.