Penny Dreadfuls, 1912 · page 67 of 118
The Medea — page 67: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running dramatic prose from what appears to be a theatrical adaptation of the classical tragedy *Medea* (page 51). The text shows Medea reconciling with Jason and summoning their children to greet him, instructing them to abandon their anger. Stage directions in italics indicate the children's entrance and Medea's emotional breakdown as they approach their father. The passage depicts Medea's internal conflict—she attempts to compose herself while being overwhelmed by "hidden horrors" and dread, ultimately weeping over her child. The text is verse drama presented in a serialized fiction format typical of Victorian penny dreadful publications.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
MEDEA 51 To have caught this anchor for our aid. The fool Was I; who should have been thy friend, thy tool; Gone wooing with thee, stood at thy bed-side Serving, and welcomed duteously thy bride. But, as we are, we are—I will not say Mere evil—women! Why must thou to-day Turn strange, and make thee like some evil thing, Childish, to meet my childish passioning ? See, I surrender: and confess that then I had bad thoughts, but now have turned again And found my wiser mind. | She claps her hands. Ho, children! Run Quickly! Come hither, out into the sun, | Zze CHILDREN come from the house, followed by their ATTENDANT. And greet your father. Welcome him with us, And throw quite, quite away, as mother does, Your anger against one so dear. Our peace Is made, and all the old bad war shall cease For ever.—Go, and take his hand. ... [As the CHILDREN go to JASON, she suddenly bursts into tears. The CHILDREN guickly return to her: she recovers herself, smiling amid her tears. Ah me, I am full of hidden horrors! . . . Shall it be A long time more, my children, that ye live To reach to me those dear, dear arms? . . . Forgive! I am so ready with my tears to-day, | And full of dread. . . . I sought to smooth away The long strife with your father, and, lo, now I have all drowned with tears this little brow! | [She wipes the child’s face. i cS (e(@) =} » eee (elo) boo