Creon.

       Didst thou lend Thine ear to Pelias, ere thou judgedst him to death?— But come, I'll give thee grace to plead thy goodly cause.

      Medea.

       How hard the task to turn the soul from wrath, when once

       To wrath inclined; how 'tis the creed of sceptered kings

       To swerve not from the proposed course they once have taken,

       Full well I know, for I have tasted royalty.

       For, though by present storms of ill I'm overwhelmed,

       An exile, suppliant, lone, forsaken, all undone,

       I once in happier times a royal princess shone,

       And traced my proud descent from heavenly Phoebus' self.

       Then princes humbly sought my hand in wedlock, mine,

       Who now must sue.—

       O changeful Fortune, thou my throne

       Hast reft away, and given me exile in its stead.

       Trust not in kingly realms, since fickle chance may strew

       Their treasures to the winds. Lo this is regal, this The work of kings, which time nor change cannot undo: To succor the afflicted, to provide at need A trusty refuge for the suppliant. This alone I brought of all my Colchian treasure, this renown, This very flower of fame—that by my arts I saved The bulwark of the Greeks, the offspring of the gods. My princely gift to Greece is Orpheus, that sweet bard, Who can the trees in willing bondage draw, and melt The crag's hard heart. Mine too are Boreas' winged sons, And Leda's heaven-born progeny, and Lynceus, he Whose glance can pierce the distant view; yea, all the Greeks, Save Jason; for I mention not the king of kings, The leader of the leaders: he is mine alone, My labor's recompense. The rest I give to you. Nay, come, O king, arraign me, and rehearse my crimes. But stay! for I'll confess them all. The only crime Of which I stand accused is this—the Argo saved. Suppose my maiden scruples had opposed the deed; Suppose my filial piety had stayed my hand: Then had the mighty chieftains fall'n, and in their fate All Greece had been o'erwhelmed; then this thy son-in-law Had felt the bull's consuming breath, and perished there. Nay, nay, let Fortune when she will my doom decree; I glory still that kings have owed their lives to me. But what reward I reap for all my glorious deeds Is in thy hands. Convict me, if thou wilt, of sin, But give him back for whom I sinned. O Creon, see, I own that I am guilty. This much thou didst know, When first I clasped thy knees, a humble suppliant, And sought the shelter of thy royal clemency. Some little corner of thy kingdom now I ask In which to hide my grief. If I must flee again, O let some nook remote within thy broad domain Be found for me!

      Creon claims to have been merciful in having shielded Jason and Medea all these years from the just resentment of the king of Thessaly. Jason's cause would be easy enough to defend, for he has been innocent of guilt; but it is impossible longer to shield Medea, who has committed so many bloody deeds in the past, and is capable of doing the like again.

      Creon.

       Then go thou hence and purge our kingdom of its stain;

       Bear with thee in thy flight thy fatal poisons; free

       The state from fear; abiding in some other land,

       Outwear the patience of the gods.