{"id":299,"date":"2019-12-13T15:33:29","date_gmt":"2019-12-13T15:33:29","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-jefferson-english102\/?post_type=chapter&p=299"},"modified":"2019-12-13T16:56:14","modified_gmt":"2019-12-13T16:56:14","slug":"euripides-medea","status":"publish","type":"chapter","link":"https:\/\/courses.lumenlearning.com\/suny-jefferson-english102\/chapter\/euripides-medea\/","title":{"raw":"Euripides, Medea","rendered":"Euripides, Medea"},"content":{"raw":"Translated by E. P. Coleridge\r\n\r\nDramatis Personae\r\n\r\nNURSE OF MEDEA\r\n\r\nATTENDANT ON HER CHILDREN\r\n\r\nMEDEA\r\n\r\nCHORUS OF CORINTHIAN WOMEN\r\n\r\nCREON, King of Corinth\r\n\r\nJASON\r\n\r\nAEGEUS, King of Athens\r\n\r\nMESSENGER\r\n\r\nBefore MEDEA's house in Corinth, near the palace Of CREON. The NURSE\r\n\r\nenters from the house.\r\n\r\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\r\n\r\nNURSE Ah! Would to Heaven the good ship Argo ne'er had sped its\r\n\r\ncourse to the Colchian land through the misty blue Symplegades, nor\r\n\r\never in the glens of Pelion the pine been felled to furnish with oars\r\n\r\nthe chieftain's hands, who went to fetch the golden fleece for Pelias;\r\n\r\nfor then would my own mistress Medea never have sailed to the turrets\r\n\r\nof Iolcos, her soul with love for Jason smitten, nor would she have\r\n\r\nbeguiled the daughters of Pelias to slay their father and come to\r\n\r\nlive here in the land of Corinth with her husband and children, where\r\n\r\nher exile found favour with the citizens to whose land she had come,\r\n\r\nand in all things of her own accord was she at one with Jason, the\r\n\r\ngreatest safeguard this when wife and husband do agree; but now their\r\n\r\nlove is all turned to hate, and tenderest ties are weak. For Jason\r\n\r\nhath betrayed his own children and my mistress dear for the love of\r\n\r\na royal bride, for he hath wedded the daughter of Creon, lord of this\r\n\r\nland. While Medea, his hapless wife, thus scorned, appeals to the\r\n\r\noaths he swore, recalls the strong pledge his right hand gave, and\r\n\r\nbids heaven be witness what requital she is finding from Jason. And\r\n\r\nhere she lies fasting, yielding her body to her grief, wasting away\r\n\r\nin tears ever since she learnt that she was wronged by her husband,\r\n\r\nnever lifting her eye nor raising her face from off the ground; and\r\n\r\nshe lends as deaf an ear to her friend's warning as if she were a\r\n\r\nrock or ocean billow, save when she turns her snow-white neck aside\r\n\r\nand softly to herself bemoans her father dear, her country and her\r\n\r\nhome, which she gave up to come hither with the man who now holds\r\n\r\nher in dishonour. She, poor lady, hath by sad experience learnt how\r\n\r\ngood a thing it is never to quit one's native land. And she hates\r\n\r\nher children now and feels no joy at seeing them; I fear she may contrive\r\n\r\nsome untoward scheme; for her mood is dangerous nor will she brook\r\n\r\nher cruel treatment; full well I know her, and I much do dread that\r\n\r\nshe will plunge the keen sword through their hearts, stealing without\r\n\r\na word into the chamber where their marriage couch is spread, or else\r\n\r\nthat she will slay the prince and bridegroom too, and so find some\r\n\r\ncalamity still more grievous than the present; for dreadful is her\r\n\r\nwrath; verily the man that doth incur her hate will have no easy task\r\n\r\nto raise o'er her a song of triumph. Lo! where her sons come hither\r\n\r\nfrom their childish sports; little they reck of their mother's woes,\r\n\r\nfor the soul of the young is no friend to sorrow.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT\r\n\r\nleads in MEDEA'S children.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT Why dost thou, so long my lady's own handmaid, stand here\r\n\r\nat the gate alone, loudly lamenting to thyself the piteous tale? how\r\n\r\ncomes it that Medea will have thee leave her to herself?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE Old man, attendant on the sons of Jason, our masters' fortunes\r\n\r\nwhen they go awry make good slaves grieve and touch their hearts.\r\n\r\nOh! have come to such a pitch of grief that there stole a yearning\r\n\r\nwish upon me to come forth hither and proclaim to heaven and earth\r\n\r\nmy mistress's hard fate.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT What! has not the poor lady ceased yet from her lamentation?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE Would I were as thou art! the mischief is but now beginning;\r\n\r\nit has not reached its climax yet.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT O foolish one, if I may call my mistress such a name; how\r\n\r\nlittle she recks of evils yet more recent!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE What mean'st, old man? grudge not to tell me.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT 'Tis naught; I do repent me even of the words I have spoken.\r\n\r\nNURSE Nay, by thy beard I conjure thee, hide it not from thy fellow-slave;\r\n\r\nwill be silent, if need be, on that text.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT I heard one say, pretending not to listen as I approached\r\n\r\nthe place where our greybeards sit playing draughts near Pirene's\r\n\r\nsacred spring, that Creon, the ruler of this land, is bent on driving\r\n\r\nthese children and their mother from the boundaries of Corinth; but\r\n\r\nI know not whether the news is to be relied upon, and would fain it\r\n\r\nwere not.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE What! will Jason brook such treatment of his sons, even though\r\n\r\nhe be at variance with their mother?\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Old ties give way to new; he bears no longer any love to\r\n\r\nthis family.\r\n\r\nNURSE Undone, it seems, are we, if to old woes fresh ones we add,\r\n\r\nere we have drained the former to the dregs.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Hold thou thy peace, say not a word of this; 'tis no time\r\n\r\nfor our mistress to learn hereof.\r\n\r\nNURSE O children, do ye hear how your father feels towards you? Perdition\r\n\r\ncatch him, but no he is my master still; yet is he proved a very traitor\r\n\r\nto his nearest and dearest.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT And who 'mongst men is not? Art learning only now, that\r\n\r\nevery single man cares for himself more than for his neighbour, some\r\n\r\nfrom honest motives, others for mere gain's sake? seeing that to indulge\r\n\r\nhis passion their father has ceased to love these children.\r\n\r\nNURSE Go, children, within the house; all will be well. Do thou keep\r\n\r\nthem as far away as may be, and bring them not near their mother in\r\n\r\nher evil hour. For ere this have I seen her eyeing them savagely,\r\n\r\nas though she were minded to do them some hurt, and well I know she\r\n\r\nwill not cease from her fury till she have pounced on some victim.\r\n\r\nAt least may she turn her hand against her foes, and not against her\r\n\r\nfriends.\r\n\r\nMEDEA\u00a0 (chanting within) Ah, me! a wretched suffering woman I! O\r\n\r\nwould that I could die!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE\u00a0 (chanting) 'Tis as I said, my dear children; wild fancies\r\n\r\nstir your mother's heart, wild fury goads her on. Into the house without\r\n\r\ndelay, come not near her eye, approach her not, beware her savage\r\n\r\nmood, the fell tempest of her reckless heart. In, in with what speed\r\n\r\nye may. For 'tis plain she will soon redouble her fury; that cry is\r\n\r\nbut the herald of the gathering storm-cloud whose lightning soon will\r\n\r\nflash; what will her proud restless soul, in the anguish of despair,\r\n\r\nbe guilty of?\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT takes the children into the house. MEDEA\r\n\r\n(chanting within)\u00a0 Ah, me! the agony I have suffered, deep enough\r\n\r\nto call for these laments! Curse you and your father too, ye children\r\n\r\ndamned, sons of a doomed mother! Ruin seize the whole family!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE\u00a0 (chanting) Ah me! ah me! the pity of it! Why, pray, do thy\r\n\r\nchildren share their father's crime? Why hatest thou them? Woe is\r\n\r\nyou, poor children, how do I grieve for you lest ye suffer some outrage!\r\n\r\nStrange are the tempers of princes, and maybe because they seldom\r\n\r\nhave to obey, and mostly lord it over others, change they their moods\r\n\r\nwith difficulty. 'Tis better then to have been trained to live on\r\n\r\nequal terms. Be it mine to reach old age, not in proud pomp, but in\r\n\r\nsecurity! Moderation wins the day first as a better word for men to\r\n\r\nuse, and likewise it is far the best course for them to pursue; but\r\n\r\ngreatness that doth o'erreach itself, brings no blessing to mortal\r\n\r\nmen; but pays a penalty of greater ruin whenever fortune is wroth\r\n\r\nwith a family.\u00a0 (The CHORUS enters. The following lines between the\r\n\r\nNURSE, CHORUS, and MEDEA are sung.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS I heard the voice, uplifted loud, of our poor Colchian lady,\r\n\r\nnor yet is she quiet; speak, aged dame, for as I stood by the house\r\n\r\nwith double gates I heard a voice of weeping from within, and I do\r\n\r\ngrieve, lady, for the sorrows of this house, for it hath won my love.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE 'Tis a house no more; all that is passed away long since; a\r\n\r\nroyal bride keeps Jason at her side, while our mistress pines away\r\n\r\nin her bower, finding no comfort for her soul in aught her friends\r\n\r\ncan say.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA\u00a0 (within) Oh, oh! Would that Heaven's levin bolt would cleave\r\n\r\nthis head in twain! What gain is life to me? Woe, woe is me! O, to\r\n\r\ndie and win release, quitting this loathed existence!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS Didst hear, O Zeus, thou earth, and thou, O light, the piteous\r\n\r\nnote of woe the hapless wife is uttering? How shall a yearning for\r\n\r\nthat insatiate resting-place ever hasten for thee, poor reckless one,\r\n\r\nthe end that death alone can bring? Never pray for that. And if thy\r\n\r\nlord prefers a fresh love, be not angered with him for that; Zeus\r\n\r\nwill judge 'twixt thee and him herein. Then mourn not for thy husband's\r\n\r\nloss too much, nor waste thyself away.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA\u00a0 (within) Great Themis, and husband of Themis, behold what\r\n\r\nI am suffering now, though I did bind that accursed one, my husband,\r\n\r\nby strong oaths to me! O, to see him and his bride some day brought\r\n\r\nto utter destruction, they and their house with them, for that they\r\n\r\npresume to wrong me thus unprovoked. O my father, my country, that\r\n\r\nI have left to my shame, after slaying my own brother.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE Do ye hear her words, how loudly she adjures Themis, oft invoked,\r\n\r\nand Zeus, whom men regard as keeper of their oaths? On no mere trifle\r\n\r\nsurely will our mistress spend her rage.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS Would that she would come forth for us to see, and listen\r\n\r\nto the words of counsel we might give, if haply she might lay aside\r\n\r\nthe fierce fury of her wrath, and her temper stern. Never be my zeal\r\n\r\nat any rate denied my friends! But go thou and bring her hither outside\r\n\r\nthe house, and tell her this our friendly thought; haste thee ere\r\n\r\nshe do some mischief to those inside the house, for this sorrow of\r\n\r\nhers is mounting high.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nNURSE This will I do; but I doubt whether I shall persuade my mistress;\r\n\r\nstill willingly will I undertake this trouble for you; albeit, she\r\n\r\nglares upon her servants with the look of a lioness with cubs, whenso\r\n\r\nanyone draws nigh to speak to her. Wert thou to call the men of old\r\n\r\ntime rude uncultured boors thou wouldst not err, seeing that they\r\n\r\ndevised their hymns for festive occasions, for banquets, and to grace\r\n\r\nthe board, a pleasure to catch the ear, shed o'er our life, but no\r\n\r\nman hath found a way to allay hated grief by music and the minstrel's\r\n\r\nvaried strain, whence arise slaughters and fell strokes of fate to\r\n\r\no'erthrow the homes of men. And yet this were surely a gain, to heal\r\n\r\nmen's wounds by music's spell, but why tune they their idle song where\r\n\r\nrich banquets are spread? For of itself doth the rich banquet, set\r\n\r\nbefore them, afford to men delight.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS I heard a bitter cry of lamentation! loudly, bitterly she\r\n\r\ncalls on the traitor of her marriage bed, her perfidious spouse; by\r\n\r\ngrievous wrongs oppressed she invokes Themis, bride of Zeus, witness\r\n\r\nof oaths, who brought her unto Hellas, the land that fronts the strand\r\n\r\nof Asia, o'er the sea by night through ocean's boundless gate.\u00a0 (As\r\n\r\nthe CHORUS finishes its song, MEDEA enters from the house.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA From the house I have come forth, Corinthian ladies, for fear\r\n\r\nlest you be blaming me; for well I know that amongst men many by showing\r\n\r\npride have gotten them an ill name and a reputation for indifference,\r\n\r\nboth those who shun men's gaze and those who move amid the stranger\r\n\r\ncrowd, and likewise they who choose a quiet walk in life. For there\r\n\r\nis no just discernment in the eyes of men, for they, or ever they\r\n\r\nhave surely learnt their neighbour's heart, loathe him at first sight,\r\n\r\nthough never wronged by him; and so a stranger most of all should\r\n\r\nadopt a city's views; nor do I commend that citizen, who, in the stubbornness\r\n\r\nof his heart, from churlishness resents the city's will.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nBut on me hath fallen this unforeseen disaster, and sapped my life;\r\n\r\nruined I am, and long to resign the boon of existence, kind friends,\r\n\r\nand die. For he who was all the world to me, as well thou knowest,\r\n\r\nhath turned out the worst of men, my own husband. Of all things that\r\n\r\nhave life and sense we women are the most hapless creatures; first\r\n\r\nmust we buy a husband at a great price, and o'er ourselves a tyrant\r\n\r\nset which is an evil worse than the first; and herein lies the most\r\n\r\nimportant issue, whether our choice be good or bad. For divorce is\r\n\r\nnot honourable to women, nor can we disown our lords. Next must the\r\n\r\nwife, coming as she does to ways and customs new, since she hath not\r\n\r\nlearnt the lesson in her home, have a diviner's eye to see how best\r\n\r\nto treat the partner of her life. If haply we perform these tasks\r\n\r\nwith thoroughness and tact, and the husband live with us, without\r\n\r\nresenting the yoke, our life is a happy one; if not, 'twere best to\r\n\r\ndie. But when a man is vexed with what he finds indoors, he goeth\r\n\r\nforth and rids his soul of its disgust, betaking him to some friend\r\n\r\nor comrade of like age; whilst we must needs regard his single self.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAnd yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the wars,\r\n\r\nwith their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand in battle\r\n\r\narray three times o'er, than once give birth. But enough! this language\r\n\r\nsuits not thee as it does me; thou hast a city here, a father's house,\r\n\r\nsome joy in life, and friends to share thy thoughts, but I am destitute,\r\n\r\nwithout a city, and therefore scorned by my husband, a captive I from\r\n\r\na foreign shore, with no mother, brother, or kinsman in whom to find\r\n\r\na new haven of refuge from this calamity. Wherefore this one boon\r\n\r\nand only this I wish to win from thee,-thy silence, if haply I can\r\n\r\nsome way or means devise to avenge me on my husband for this cruel\r\n\r\ntreatment, and on the man who gave to him his daughter, and on her\r\n\r\nwho is his wife. For though woman be timorous enough in all else,\r\n\r\nand as regards courage, a coward at the mere sight of steel, yet in\r\n\r\nthe moment she finds her honour wronged, no heart is filled with deadlier\r\n\r\nthoughts than hers.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS This will I do; for thou wilt be taking a just\r\n\r\nvengeance on thy husband, Medea. That thou shouldst mourn thy lot\r\n\r\nsurprises me not. But lo! I see Creon, king of this land coming hither,\r\n\r\nto announce some new resolve.\u00a0 (CREON enters, with his retinue.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCREON Hark thee, Medea, I bid thee take those sullen looks and angry\r\n\r\nthoughts against thy husband forth from this land in exile, and with\r\n\r\nthee take both thy children and that without delay, for I am judge\r\n\r\nin this sentence, and I will not return unto my house till I banish\r\n\r\nthee beyond the borders of the land.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Ah, me! now is utter destruction come upon me, unhappy that\r\n\r\nI am! For my enemies are bearing down on me full sail, nor have I\r\n\r\nany landing-place to come at in my trouble. Yet for all my wretched\r\n\r\nplight I will ask thee, Creon, wherefore dost thou drive me from the\r\n\r\nland?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCREON I fear thee,-no longer need I veil my dread 'neath words,-lest\r\n\r\nthou devise against my child some cureless ill. Many things contribute\r\n\r\nto this fear of mine; thou art a witch by nature, expert in countless\r\n\r\nsorceries, and thou art chafing for the loss of thy husband's affection.\r\n\r\nI hear, too, so they tell me, that thou dost threaten the father of\r\n\r\nthe bride, her husband, and herself with some mischief; wherefore\r\n\r\nI will take precautions ere our troubles come. For 'tis better for\r\n\r\nme to incur thy hatred now, lady, than to soften my heart and bitterly\r\n\r\nrepent it hereafter.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Alas! this is not now the first time, but oft before, O Creon,\r\n\r\nhath my reputation injured me and caused sore mischief. Wherefore\r\n\r\nwhoso is wise in his generation ought never to have his children taught\r\n\r\nto be too clever; for besides the reputation they get for idleness,\r\n\r\nthey purchase bitter odium from the citizens. For if thou shouldst\r\n\r\nimport new learning amongst dullards, thou wilt be thought a useless\r\n\r\ntrifler, void of knowledge; while if thy fame in the city o'ertops\r\n\r\nthat of the pretenders to cunning knowledge, thou wilt win their dislike.\r\n\r\nI too myself share in this ill-luck. Some think me clever and hate\r\n\r\nme, others say I am too reserved, and some the very reverse; others\r\n\r\nfind me hard to please and not so very clever after all. Be that as\r\n\r\nit may, thou dost fear me lest I bring on thee something to mar thy\r\n\r\nharmony. Fear me not, Creon, my position scarce is such that should\r\n\r\nseek to quarrel with princes. Why should I, for how hast thou injured\r\n\r\nme? Thou hast betrothed thy daughter where thy fancy prompted thee.\r\n\r\nNo, 'tis my husband I hate, though I doubt not thou hast acted wisely\r\n\r\nherein. And now I grudge not thy prosperity; betroth thy child, good\r\n\r\nluck to thee, but let me abide in this land, for though I have been\r\n\r\nwronged I will be still and yield to my superiors.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCREON Thy words are soft to hear, but much I dread lest thou art\r\n\r\ndevising some mischief in thy heart, and less than ever do I trust\r\n\r\nthee now; for cunning woman, and man likewise, is easier to guard\r\n\r\nagainst when quick-tempered than when taciturn. Nay, begone at once!\r\n\r\nspeak me no speeches, for this is decreed, nor hast thou any art whereby\r\n\r\nthou shalt abide amongst us, since thou hatest me.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA O, say not so! by thy knees and by thy daughter newlywed, I\r\n\r\ndo implore!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCREON Thou wastest words; thou wilt never persuade me.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA What, wilt thou banish me, and to my prayers no pity yield?\r\n\r\nCREON I will, for I love not thee above my own family.\r\n\r\nMEDEA O my country! what fond memories I have of thee in this hour!\r\n\r\nCREON Yea, for I myself love my city best of all things save my children.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Ah me! ah me! to mortal man how dread a scourge is love!\r\n\r\nCREON That, I deem, is according to the turn our fortunes take.\r\n\r\nMEDEA O Zeus! let not the author of these my troubles escape thee.\r\n\r\nCREON Begone, thou silly woman, and free me from my toil.\r\n\r\nMEDEA The toil is mine, no lack of it.\r\n\r\nCREON Soon wilt thou be thrust out forcibly by the hand of servants.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Not that, not that, I do entreat thee, Creon\r\n\r\nCREON Thou wilt cause disturbance yet, it seems.\r\n\r\nMEDEA I will begone; I ask thee not this boon to grant.\r\n\r\nCREON Why then this violence? why dost thou not depart?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Suffer me to abide this single day and devise some plan for\r\n\r\nthe manner of my exile, and means of living for my children, since\r\n\r\ntheir father cares not to provide his babes therewith. Then pity them;\r\n\r\nthou too hast children of thine own; thou needs must have a kindly\r\n\r\nheart. For my own lot I care naught, though I an exile am, but for\r\n\r\nthose babes I weep, that they should learn what sorrow means.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCREON Mine is a nature anything but harsh; full oft by showing pity\r\n\r\nhave suffered shipwreck; and now albeit I clearly see my error, yet\r\n\r\nshalt thou gain this request, lady; but I do forewarn thee, if tomorrow's\r\n\r\nrising sun shall find thee and thy children within the borders of\r\n\r\nthis land, thou diest; my word is spoken and it will not lie. So now,\r\n\r\nif abide thou must, stay this one day only, for in it thou canst not\r\n\r\ndo any of the fearful deeds I dread.\u00a0 (CREON and his retinue go out.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Ah! poor lady, woe is thee! Alas, for thy sorrows!\r\n\r\nWhither wilt thou turn? What protection, what home or country to save\r\n\r\nthee from thy troubles wilt thou find? O Medea, in what a hopeless\r\n\r\nsea of misery heaven hath plunged thee!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA On all sides sorrow pens me in. Who shall gainsay this? But\r\n\r\nall is not yet lost! think not so. Still are there troubles in store\r\n\r\nfor the new bride, and for her bridegroom no light toil. Dost think\r\n\r\nI would ever have fawned on yonder man, unless to gain some end or\r\n\r\nform some scheme? Nay, would not so much as have spoken to him or\r\n\r\ntouched him with my hand. But he has in folly so far stepped in that,\r\n\r\nthough he might have checked my plot by banishing me from the land,\r\n\r\nhe hath allowed me to abide this day, in which I will lay low in death\r\n\r\nthree of my enemies-a father and his daughter and my husband too.\r\n\r\nNow, though I have many ways to compass their death, I am not sure,\r\n\r\nfriends, which I am to try first. Shall I set fire to the bridal mansion,\r\n\r\nor plunge the whetted sword through their hearts, softly stealing\r\n\r\ninto the chamber where their couch is spread? One thing stands in\r\n\r\nmy way. If I am caught making my way into the chamber, intent on my\r\n\r\ndesign, I shall be put to death and cause my foes to mock, 'Twere\r\n\r\nbest to take the shortest way-the way we women are most skilled in-by\r\n\r\npoison to destroy them. Well, suppose them dead; what city will receive\r\n\r\nme? What friendly host will give me a shelter in his land, a home\r\n\r\nsecure, and save my soul alive? None. So I will wait yet a little\r\n\r\nwhile in case some tower of defence rise up for me; then will I proceed\r\n\r\nto this bloody deed in crafty silence; but if some unexpected mischance\r\n\r\ndrive me forth, I will with mine own hand seize the sword, e'en though\r\n\r\nI die for it, and slay them, and go forth on my bold path of daring.\r\n\r\nBy that dread queen whom I revere before all others and have chosen\r\n\r\nto share my task, by Hecate who dwells within my inmost chamber, not\r\n\r\none of them shall wound my heart and rue it not. Bitter and sad will\r\n\r\nI make their marriage for them; bitter shall be the wooing of it,\r\n\r\nbitter my exile from the land. Up, then, Medea, spare not the secrets\r\n\r\nof thy art in plotting and devising; on to the danger. Now comes a\r\n\r\nstruggle needing courage. Dost see what thou art suffering? 'Tis not\r\n\r\nfor thee to be a laughing-stock to the race of Sisyphus by reason\r\n\r\nof this wedding of Jason, sprung, as thou art, from noble sire, and\r\n\r\nof the Sun-god's race. Thou hast cunning; and, more than this, we\r\n\r\nwomen, though by nature little apt for virtuous deeds, are most expert\r\n\r\nto fashion any mischief.\r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)\r\n\r\nBack to their source the holy rivers turn their tide. Order and the\r\n\r\nuniverse are being reversed. 'Tis men whose counsels are treacherous,\r\n\r\nwhose oath by heaven is no longer sure. Rumour shall bring a change\r\n\r\no'er my life, bringing it into good repute. Honour's dawn is breaking\r\n\r\nfor woman's sex; no more shall the foul tongue of slander fix upon\r\n\r\nus.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 1)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nThe songs of the poets of old shall cease to make our faithlessness\r\n\r\ntheir theme. Phoebus, lord of minstrelsy, hath not implanted in our\r\n\r\nmind the gift of heavenly song, else had I sung an answering strain\r\n\r\nto the race of males, for time's long chapter affords many a theme\r\n\r\non their sex as well as ours.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(strophe 2)\r\n\r\nWith mind distraught didst thou thy father's house desert on thy\r\n\r\nvoyage betwixt ocean's twin rocks, and on a foreign strand thou dwellest\r\n\r\nthy bed left husbandless, poor lady, and thou an exile from the land,\r\n\r\ndishonoured, persecuted.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 2)\r\n\r\nGone is the grace that oaths once had. Through all the breadth of\r\n\r\nHellas honour is found no more; to heaven hath it sped away. For thee\r\n\r\nno father's house is open, woe is thee! to be a haven from the troublous\r\n\r\nstorm, while o'er thy home is set another queen, the bride that is\r\n\r\npreferred to thee.\u00a0 (As the CHORUS finishes its song, JASON enters,\r\n\r\nalone. MEDEA comes out of the house.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON It is not now I first remark, but oft ere this, how unruly\r\n\r\na pest is a harsh temper. For instance, thou, hadst thou but patiently\r\n\r\nendured the will of thy superiors, mightest have remained here in\r\n\r\nthis land and house, but now for thy idle words wilt thou be banished.\r\n\r\nThy words are naught to me. Cease not to call Jason basest of men;\r\n\r\nbut for those words thou hast spoken against our rulers, count it\r\n\r\nall gain that exile is thy only punishment. I ever tried to check\r\n\r\nthe outbursts of the angry monarch, and would have had thee stay,\r\n\r\nbut thou wouldst not forego thy silly rage, always reviling our rulers,\r\n\r\nand so thou wilt be banished. Yet even after all this I weary not\r\n\r\nof my goodwill, but am come with thus much forethought, lady, that\r\n\r\nthou mayst not be destitute nor want for aught, when, with thy sons,\r\n\r\nthou art cast out. Many an evil doth exile bring in its train with\r\n\r\nit; for even though thou hatest me, never will I harbour hard thoughts\r\n\r\nof thee.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Thou craven villain (for that is the only name my tongue can\r\n\r\nfind for thee, a foul reproach on thy unmanliness), comest thou to\r\n\r\nme, thou, most hated foe of gods, of me, and of all mankind? 'Tis\r\n\r\nno proof of courage or hardihood to confront thy friends after injuring\r\n\r\nthem, but that worst of all human diseases-loss of shame. Yet hast\r\n\r\nthou done well to come; for I shall ease my soul by reviling thee,\r\n\r\nand thou wilt be vexed at my recital. I will begin at the very beginning.\r\n\r\nI saved thy life, as every Hellene knows who sailed with thee aboard\r\n\r\nthe good ship Argo, when thou wert sent to tame and yoke fire-breathing\r\n\r\nbulls, and to sow the deadly tilth. Yea, and I slew the dragon which\r\n\r\nguarded the golden fleece, keeping sleepless watch o'er it with many\r\n\r\na wreathed coil, and I raised for thee a beacon of deliverance. Father\r\n\r\nand home of my free will I left and came with the to Iolcos, 'neath\r\n\r\nPelion's hills, for my love was stronger than my prudence. Next I\r\n\r\ncaused the death of Pelias by a doom most grievous, even by his own\r\n\r\nchildren's hand, beguiling them of all their fear. All this have I\r\n\r\ndone for thee, thou traitor! and thou hast cast me over, taking to\r\n\r\nthyself another wife, though children have been born to us. Hadst\r\n\r\nthou been childless still, I could have pardoned thy desire for this\r\n\r\nnew union. Gone is now the trust I put in oaths. I cannot even understand\r\n\r\nwhether thou thinkest that the gods of old no longer rule, or that\r\n\r\nfresh decrees are now in vogue amongst mankind, for thy conscience\r\n\r\nmust tell thee thou hast not kept faith with me. Ah! poor right hand,\r\n\r\nwhich thou didst often grasp. These knees thou didst embrace! All\r\n\r\nin vain, I suffered a traitor to touch me! How short of my hopes I\r\n\r\nam fallen! But come, I will deal with the as though thou wert my friend.\r\n\r\nYet what kindness can I expect from one so base as thee? But yet I\r\n\r\nwill do it, for my questioning will show thee yet more base. Whither\r\n\r\ncan I turn me now? to my father's house, to my own country, which\r\n\r\nI for thee deserted to come hither? to the hapless daughters of Pelias?\r\n\r\nA glad welcome, I trow, would they give me in their home, whose father's\r\n\r\ndeath I compassed! My case stands even thus: I am become the bitter\r\n\r\nfoe to those of mine own home, and those whom I need ne'er have wronged\r\n\r\nI have made mine enemies to pleasure thee. Wherefore to reward me\r\n\r\nfor this thou hast made me doubly blest in the eyes of many wife in\r\n\r\nHellas; and in thee I own a peerless, trusty lord. O woe is me, if\r\n\r\nindeed I am to be cast forth an exile from the land, without one friend;\r\n\r\none lone woman with her babes forlorn! Yea, a fine reproach to thee\r\n\r\nin thy bridal hour, that thy children and the wife who saved thy life\r\n\r\nare beggars and vagabonds! O Zeus! why hast thou granted unto man\r\n\r\nclear signs to know the sham in gold, while on man's brow no brand\r\n\r\nis stamped whereby to gauge the villain's heart?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS There is a something terrible and past all cure,\r\n\r\nwhen quarrels arise 'twixt those who are near and dear.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Needs must I now, it seems, turn orator, and, like a good helmsman\r\n\r\non a ship with close-reefed sails, weather that wearisome tongue of\r\n\r\nthine. Now, I believe, since thou wilt exaggerate thy favours, that\r\n\r\nto Cypri, alone of gods or men I owe the safety of my voyage. Thou\r\n\r\nhast a subtle wit enough; yet were it a hateful thing for me to say\r\n\r\nthat the Love-god constrained thee by his resistless shaft to save\r\n\r\nmy life. However, I will not reckon this too nicely; 'twas kindly\r\n\r\ndone, however thou didst serve me. Yet for my safety hast thou received\r\n\r\nmore than ever thou gavest, as I will show. First, thou dwellest in\r\n\r\nHellas, instead of thy barbarian land, and hast learnt what justice\r\n\r\nmeans and how to live by law, not by the dictates of brute force;\r\n\r\nand all the Hellenes recognize thy cleverness, and thou hast gained\r\n\r\na name; whereas, if thou hadst dwelt upon the confines of the earth,\r\n\r\nno tongue had mentioned thee. Give me no gold within my halls, nor\r\n\r\nskill to sing a fairer strain than ever Orpheus sang, unless there-with\r\n\r\nmy fame be spread abroad! So much I say to thee about my own toils,\r\n\r\nfor 'twas thou didst challenge me to this retort. As for the taunts\r\n\r\nthou urgest against my marriage with the princess, I will prove to\r\n\r\nthee, first, that I am prudent herein, next chastened in my love,\r\n\r\nand last powerful friend to thee and to thy sons; only hold thy peace.\r\n\r\nSince I have here withdrawn from Iolcos with many a hopeless trouble\r\n\r\nat my back, what happier device could I, an exile, frame than marriage\r\n\r\nwith the daughter of the king? 'Tis not because I loathe thee for\r\n\r\nmy wife-the thought that rankles in thy heart; 'tis not because I\r\n\r\nam smitten with desire for a new bride, nor yet that I am eager to\r\n\r\nvie with others in begetting many children, for those we have are\r\n\r\nquite enough, and I do not complain. Nay, 'tis that we-and this is\r\n\r\nmost important-may dwell in comfort, instead of suffering want\u00a0 (for\r\n\r\nwell I know that every whilom friend avoids the poor)\u00a0 , and that\r\n\r\nI might rear my sons as doth befit my house; further, that I might\r\n\r\nbe the father of brothers for the children thou hast borne, and raise\r\n\r\nthese to the same high rank, uniting the family in one,-to my lasting\r\n\r\nbliss. Thou, indeed, hast no need of more children, but me it profits\r\n\r\nto help my present family by that which is to be. Have I miscarried\r\n\r\nhere? Not even thou wouldest say so unless a rival's charms rankled\r\n\r\nin thy bosom. No, but you women have such strange ideas, that you\r\n\r\nthink all is well so long as your married life runs smooth; but if\r\n\r\nsome mischance occur to ruffle your love, all that was good and lovely\r\n\r\nerst you reckon as your foes. Yea, men should have begotten children\r\n\r\nfrom some other source, no female race existing; thus would no evil\r\n\r\never have fallen on mankind.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER This speech, O Jason, hast thou with specious art arranged;\r\n\r\nbut yet I think-albeit in speaking I am indiscreet-that thou hast\r\n\r\nsinned in thy betrayal of thy wife.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA No doubt I differ from the mass of men on many points; for,\r\n\r\nto my mind, whoso hath skill to fence with words in an unjust cause,\r\n\r\nincurs the heaviest penalty; for such an one, confident that he can\r\n\r\ncast a decent veil of words o'er his injustice, dares to practise\r\n\r\nit; and yet he is not so very clever after all. So do not thou put\r\n\r\nforth thy specious pleas and clever words to me now, for one word\r\n\r\nof mine will lay thee low. Hadst thou not had a villain's heart, thou\r\n\r\nshouldst have gained my consent, then made this match, instead of\r\n\r\nhiding it from those who loved thee.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Thou wouldest have lent me ready aid, no doubt, in this proposal,\r\n\r\nif had told thee of my marriage, seeing that not even now canst thou\r\n\r\nrestrain thy soul's hot fury.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA This was not what restrained thee; but thine eye was turned\r\n\r\ntowards old age, and a foreign wife began to appear a shame to thee.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Be well assured of this: 'twas not for the woman's sake I wedded\r\n\r\nthe king's daughter, my present wife; but, as I have already told\r\n\r\nthee, I wished to insure thy safety and to be the father of royal\r\n\r\nsons bound by blood to my own children-a bulwark to our house.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA May that prosperity, whose end is woe, ne'er be mine, nor such\r\n\r\nwealth as would ever sting my heart!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Change that prayer as I will teach thee, and thou wilt show\r\n\r\nmore wisdom. Never let happiness appear in sorrow's guise, nor, when\r\n\r\nthy fortune smiles, pretend she frowns!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Mock on; thou hast a place of refuge; I am alone, an exile\r\n\r\nsoon to be.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Thy own free choice was this; blame no one else.\r\n\r\nMEDEA What did I do? Marry, then betray thee?\r\n\r\nJASON Against the king thou didst invoke an impious curse.\r\n\r\nMEDEA On thy house too maybe I bring the curse.\r\n\r\nJASON Know this, I will no further dispute this point with thee.\r\n\r\nBut, if thou wilt of my fortune somewhat take for the children or\r\n\r\nthyself to help thy exile, say on; for I am ready to grant it with\r\n\r\nungrudging hand, yea and to bend tokens to my friends elsewhere who\r\n\r\nshall treat thee well. If thou refuse this offer, thou wilt do a foolish\r\n\r\ndeed, but if thou cease from anger the greater will be thy gain.\r\n\r\nMEDEA I will have naught to do with friends of thine, naught will\r\n\r\nI receive of thee, offer it not to me; a villain's gifts can bring\r\n\r\nno blessing.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON At least I call the gods to witness, that I am ready in all\r\n\r\nthings to serve thee and thy children, but thou dost scorn my favours\r\n\r\nand thrustest thy friends stubbornly away; wherefore thy lot will\r\n\r\nbe more bitter still.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Away! By love for thy young bride entrapped, too long thou\r\n\r\nlingerest outside her chamber; go wed, for, if God will, thou shalt\r\n\r\nhave such a marriage as thou wouldst fain refuse.\u00a0 (JASON goes out.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nWhen in excess and past all limits Love doth come, he brings not\r\n\r\nglory or repute to man; but if the Cyprian queen in moderate might\r\n\r\napproach, no goddess is so full of charm as she. Never, O never, lady\r\n\r\nmine, discharge at me from thy golden bow a shaft invincible, in passion's\r\n\r\nvenom dipped.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 1)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nOn me may chastity, heaven's fairest gift, look with a favouring\r\n\r\neye; never may Cypris, goddess dread, fasten on me a temper to dispute,\r\n\r\nor restless jealousy, smiting my soul with mad desire for unlawful\r\n\r\nlove, but may she hallow peaceful married life and shrewdly decide\r\n\r\nwhom each of us shall wed.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(strophe 2)\r\n\r\nO my country, O my own dear home! God grant I may never be an outcast\r\n\r\nfrom my city, leading that cruel helpless life, whose every day is\r\n\r\nmisery. Ere that may I this life complete and yield to death, ay,\r\n\r\ndeath; for there is no misery that doth surpass the loss of fatherland.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 2)\r\n\r\nI have seen with mine eyes, nor from the lips of others have I the\r\n\r\nlesson learnt; no city, not one friend doth pity thee in this thine\r\n\r\nawful woe. May he perish and find no favour, whoso hath not in him\r\n\r\nhonour for his friends, freely unlocking his heart to them. Never\r\n\r\nshall he be friend of mine.\u00a0 (MEDEA has been seated in despair on\r\n\r\nher door-step during the choral song. AEGEUS and his attendants enter.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS All hail, Medea! no man knoweth fairer prelude to the greeting\r\n\r\nof friends than this.\r\n\r\nMEDEA All hail to thee likewise, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion. Whence\r\n\r\ncomest thou to this land?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS From Phoebus' ancient oracle.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA What took thee on thy travels to the prophetic centre of the\r\n\r\nearth?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS The wish to ask how I might raise up seed unto myself.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Pray tell me, hast thou till now dragged on a childless life?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS I have no child owing to the visitation of some god.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Hast thou a wife, or hast thou never known the married state?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS I have a wife joined to me in wedlock's bond.\r\n\r\nMEDEA What said Phoebus to thee as to children?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Words too subtle for man to comprehend.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Surely I may learn the god's answer?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Most assuredly, for it is just thy subtle wit it needs.\r\n\r\nMEDEA What said the god? speak, if I may hear it.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS He bade me \"not loose the wineskin's pendent neck.\"\r\n\r\nMEDEA Till when? what must thou do first, what country visit?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS Till I to my native home return.\r\n\r\nMEDEA What object hast thou in sailing to this land?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS O'er Troezen's realm is Pittheus king.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Pelops' son, a man devout they say.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS To him I fain would impart the oracle of the god.\r\n\r\nMEDEA The man is shrewd and versed in such-like lore.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Aye, and to me the dearest of all my warrior friends.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Good luck to thee! success to all thy wishes!\r\n\r\nAEGEUS But why that downcast eye, that wasted cheek?\r\n\r\nMEDEA O Aegeus, my husband has proved most evil.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS What meanest thou? explain to me clearly the cause of thy\r\n\r\ndespondency.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Jason is wronging me though I have given him no cause.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS What hath he done? tell me more clearly.\r\n\r\nMEDEA He is taking another wife to succeed me as mistress of his\r\n\r\nhouse.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Can he have brought himself to such a dastard deed?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Be assured thereof; I, whom he loved of yore, am in dishonour\r\n\r\nnow.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Hath he found a new love? or does he loathe thy bed?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Much in love is he! A traitor to his friend is he become.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Enough! if he is a villain as thou sayest.\r\n\r\nMEDEA The alliance he is so much enamoured of is with a princess.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Who gives his daughter to him? go on, I pray.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Creon, who is lord of this land of Corinth.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Lady, I can well pardon thy grief.\r\n\r\nMEDEA I am undone, and more than that, am banished from the land.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS By whom? fresh woe this word of thine unfolds.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Creon drives me forth in exile from Corinth.\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Doth Jason allow it? This too I blame him for.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Not in words, but he will not stand out against it. O, I implore\r\n\r\nthee by this beard and by thy knees, in suppliant posture, pity, O\r\n\r\npity my sorrows; do not see me cast forth forlorn, but receive me\r\n\r\nin thy country, to a seat within thy halls. So may thy wish by heaven's\r\n\r\ngrace be crowned with a full harvest of offspring, and may thy life\r\n\r\nclose in happiness! Thou knowest not the rare good luck thou findest\r\n\r\nhere, for I will make thy childlessness to cease and cause thee to\r\n\r\nbeget fair issue; so potent are the spells I know.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS Lady, on many grounds I am most fain to grant thee this thy\r\n\r\nboon, first for the gods' sake, next for the children whom thou dost\r\n\r\npromise I shall beget; for in respect of this I am completely lost.\r\n\r\n'Tis thus with me; if e'er thou reach my land, I will attempt to champion\r\n\r\nthee as I am bound to do. Only one warning I do give thee first, lady;\r\n\r\nI will not from this land bear thee away, yet if of thyself thou reach\r\n\r\nmy halls, there shalt thou bide in safety and I will never yield thee\r\n\r\nup to any man. But from this land escape without my aid, for I have\r\n\r\nno wish to incur the blame of my allies as well.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA It shall be even so; but wouldst thou pledge thy word to this,\r\n\r\nI should in all be well content with thee.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS Surely thou dost trust me? or is there aught that troubles\r\n\r\nthee?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Thee I trust; but Pelias' house and Creon are my foes. Wherefore,\r\n\r\nif thou art bound by an oath, thou wilt not give me up to them when\r\n\r\nthey come to drag me from the land, but, having entered into a compact\r\n\r\nand sworn by heaven as well, thou wilt become my friend and disregard\r\n\r\ntheir overtures. Weak is any aid of mine, whilst they have wealth\r\n\r\nand a princely house.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS Lady, thy words show much foresight, so if this is thy will,\r\n\r\nI do not, refuse. For I shall feel secure and safe if I have some\r\n\r\npretext to offer to thy foes, and thy case too the firmer stands.\r\n\r\nNow name thy gods.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Swear by the plain of Earth, by Helios my father's sire, and,\r\n\r\nin one comprehensive oath, by all the race of gods.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS What shall I swear to do, from what refrain? tell me that.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Swear that thou wilt never of thyself expel me from thy land,\r\n\r\nnor, whilst life is thine, permit any other, one of my foes maybe,\r\n\r\nto hale me thence if so he will.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nAEGEUS By Earth I swear, by the Sun-god's holy beam and by all the\r\n\r\nhost of heaven that I will stand fast to the terms I hear thee make.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA 'Tis enough. If thou shouldst break this oath, what curse dost\r\n\r\nthou invoke upon thyself?\r\n\r\nAEGEUS Whate'er betides the impious.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Go in peace; all is well, and I with what speed I may, will\r\n\r\nto thy city come, when I have wrought my purpose and obtained my wish.\r\n\r\n(AEGEUS and his retinue depart.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) May Maia's princely son go with thee on thy way\r\n\r\nto bring thee to thy home, and mayest thou attain that on which thy\r\n\r\nsoul is set so firmly, for to my mind thou seemest a generous man,\r\n\r\nO Aegeus.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA O Zeus, and Justice, child of Zeus, and Sun-god's light, now\r\n\r\nwill triumph o'er my foes, kind friends; on victory's road have I\r\n\r\nset forth; good hope have I of wreaking vengeance on those I hate.\r\n\r\nFor where we were in most distress this stranger hath appeared, to\r\n\r\nbe a haven in my counsels; to him will we make fast the cables of\r\n\r\nour ship when we come to the town and citadel of Pallas. But now will\r\n\r\nI explain to thee my plans in full; do not expect to hear a pleasant\r\n\r\ntale. A servant of mine will I to Jason send and crave an interview;\r\n\r\nthen when he comes I will address him with soft words, say, \"this\r\n\r\npleases me,\" and, \"that is well,\" even the marriage with the princess,\r\n\r\nwhich my treacherous lord is celebrating, and add \"it suits us both,\r\n\r\n'twas well thought out\"; then will I entreat that here my children\r\n\r\nmay abide, not that I mean to leave them in a hostile land for foes\r\n\r\nto flout, but that I may slay the king's daughter by guile. For I\r\n\r\nwill send them with gifts in their hands, carrying them unto the bride\r\n\r\nto save them from banishment, a robe of finest woof and a chaplet\r\n\r\nof gold. And if these ornaments she take and put them on, miserably\r\n\r\nshall she die, and likewise everyone who touches her; with such fell\r\n\r\npoisons will I smear my gifts. And here I quit this theme; but I shudder\r\n\r\nat the deed I must do next; for I will slay the children I have borne;\r\n\r\nthere is none shall take them from my toils; and when I have utterly\r\n\r\nconfounded Jason's house I will leave the land, escaping punishment\r\n\r\nfor my dear children's murder, after my most unholy deed. For I cannot\r\n\r\nendure the taunts of enemies, kind friends; enough! what gain is life\r\n\r\nto me? I have no country, home, or refuge left. O, I did wrong, that\r\n\r\nhour I left my father's home, persuaded by that Hellene's words, who\r\n\r\nnow shall pay the penalty, so help me God, Never shall he see again\r\n\r\nalive the children I bore to him, nor from his new bride shall he\r\n\r\nbeget issue, for she must die a hideous death, slain by my drugs.\r\n\r\nLet no one deem me a poor weak woman who sits with folded hands, but\r\n\r\nof another mould, dangerous to foes and well-disposed to friends;\r\n\r\nfor they win the fairest fame who live then, life like me.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Since thou hast imparted this design to me,\r\n\r\nI bid thee hold thy hand, both from a wish to serve thee and because\r\n\r\nI would uphold the laws men make.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA It cannot but be so; thy words I pardon since thou art not\r\n\r\nin the same sorry plight that I am.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER O lady, wilt thou steel thyself to slay thy children twain?\r\n\r\nMEDEA I will, for that will stab my husband to the heart.\r\n\r\nLEADER It may, but thou wilt be the saddest wife alive.\r\n\r\nMEDEA No matter; wasted is every word that comes 'twixt now and then.\r\n\r\nHo!\u00a0 (The NURSE enters in answer to her call.)\u00a0 Thou, go call me Jason\r\n\r\nhither, for thee I do employ on every mission of trust. No word divulge\r\n\r\nof all my purpose, as thou art to thy mistress loyal and likewise\r\n\r\nof my sex.\u00a0 (The NURSE goes out.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nSons of Erechtheus, heroes happy from of yore, children of the blessed\r\n\r\ngods, fed on wisdom's glorious food in a holy land ne'er pillaged\r\n\r\nby its foes, ye who move with sprightly step through a climate ever\r\n\r\nbright and clear, where, as legend tells, the Muses nine, Pieria's\r\n\r\nholy maids, were brought to birth by Harmonia with the golden hair.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 1)\r\n\r\nAnd poets sing how Cypris drawing water from the streams of fair-flowing\r\n\r\nCephissus breathes o'er the land a gentle breeze of balmy winds, and\r\n\r\never as she crowns her tresses with a garland of sweet rose-buds sends\r\n\r\nforth the Loves to sit by wisdom's side, to take part in every excellence.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(strophe 2)\r\n\r\nHow then shall the city of sacred streams, the land that welcomes\r\n\r\nthose it loves, receive thee, the murderess of thy children, thee\r\n\r\nwhose presence with others is a pollution? 'Think on the murder of\r\n\r\nthy children, consider the bloody deed thou takest on thee. Nay, by\r\n\r\nthy knees we, one and all, implore thee, slay not thy babes.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 2)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nWhere shall hand or heart find hardihood enough in wreaking such\r\n\r\na fearsome deed upon thy sons? How wilt thou look upon thy babes,\r\n\r\nand still without a tear retain thy bloody purpose? Thou canst not,\r\n\r\nwhen they fall at thy feet for mercy, steel thy heart and dip in their\r\n\r\nblood thy hand.\u00a0 (JASON enters.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON I am come at thy bidding, for e'en though thy hate for me is\r\n\r\nbitter thou shalt not fail in this small boon, but I will hear what\r\n\r\nnew request thou hast to make of me, lady.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Jason, I crave thy pardon for the words I spoke, and well thou\r\n\r\nmayest brook my burst of passion, for ere now we twain have shared\r\n\r\nmuch love. For I have reasoned with my soul and railed upon me thus,\r\n\r\n\"Ah! poor heart! why am I thus distraught, why so angered 'gainst\r\n\r\nall good advice, why have I come to hate the rulers of the land, my\r\n\r\nhusband too, who does the best for me he can, in wedding with a princess\r\n\r\nand rearing for my children noble brothers? Shall I not cease to fret?\r\n\r\nWhat possesses me, when heaven its best doth offer? Have I not my\r\n\r\nchildren to consider? do I forget that we are fugitives, in need of\r\n\r\nfriends?\" When I had thought all this I saw how foolish I had been,\r\n\r\nhow senselessly enraged. So now do commend thee and think thee most\r\n\r\nwise in forming this connection for us; but I was mad, I who should\r\n\r\nhave shared in these designs, helped on thy plans, and lent my aid\r\n\r\nto bring about the match, only too pleased to wait upon thy bride.\r\n\r\nBut what we are, we are, we women, evil I will not say; wherefore\r\n\r\nthou shouldst not sink to our sorry level nor with our weapons meet\r\n\r\nour childishness.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nI yield and do confess that I was wrong then, but now have I come\r\n\r\nto a better mind. Come hither, my children, come, leave the house,\r\n\r\nstep forth, and with me greet and bid farewell to your father, be\r\n\r\nreconciled from all past bitterness unto your friends, as now your\r\n\r\nmother is; for we have made a truce and anger is no more.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT\r\n\r\ncomes out of the house with the children.)\u00a0 Take his right hand; ah\r\n\r\nme! my sad fate! when I reflect, as now, upon the hidden future. O\r\n\r\nmy children, since there awaits you even thus a long, long life, stretch\r\n\r\nforth the hand to take a fond farewell. Ah me! how new to tears am\r\n\r\nI, how full of fear! For now that I have at last released me from\r\n\r\nmy quarrel with your father, I let the tear-drops stream adown my\r\n\r\ntender cheek.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS From my eyes too bursts forth the copious tear;\r\n\r\nO, may no greater ill than the present e'er befall!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Lady, I praise this conduct, not that I blame what is past;\r\n\r\nfor it is but natural to the female sex to vent their spleen against\r\n\r\na husband when he trafficks in other marriages besides his own. But\r\n\r\nthy heart is changed to wiser schemes and thou art determined on the\r\n\r\nbetter course, late though it be; this is acting like a woman of sober\r\n\r\nsense. And for you, my sons, hath your father provided with all good\r\n\r\nheed a sure refuge, by God's grace; for ye, I trow, shall with your\r\n\r\nbrothers share hereafter the foremost rank in this Corinthian realm.\r\n\r\nOnly grow up, for all the rest your sire and whoso of the gods is\r\n\r\nkind to us is bringing to pass. May I see you reach man's full estate,\r\n\r\nhigh o'er the heads of those I hate! But thou, lady, why with fresh\r\n\r\ntears dost thou thine eyelids wet, turning away thy wan cheek, with\r\n\r\nno welcome for these my happy tidings?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA 'Tis naught; upon these children my thoughts were turned.\r\n\r\nJASON Then take heart; for I will see that it is well with them.\r\n\r\nMEDEA I will do so; nor will I doubt thy word; woman is a weak creature,\r\n\r\never given to tears.\r\n\r\nJASON Why prithee, unhappy one, dost moan o'er these children?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA I gave them birth; and when thou didst pray long life for them,\r\n\r\npity entered into my soul to think that these things must be. But\r\n\r\nthe reason of thy coming hither to speak with me is partly told, the\r\n\r\nrest will I now mention. Since it is the pleasure of the rulers of\r\n\r\nthe land to banish me, and well I know 'twere best for me to stand\r\n\r\nnot in the way of thee or of the rulers by dwelling here, enemy as\r\n\r\nI am thought unto their house, forth from this land in exile am I\r\n\r\ngoing, but these children,-that they may know thy fostering hand,\r\n\r\nbeg Creon to remit their banishment.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON I doubt whether I can persuade him, yet must I attempt it.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA At least do thou bid thy wife ask her sire this boon, to remit\r\n\r\nthe exile of the children from this land.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Yea, that will I; and her methinks I shall persuade, since\r\n\r\nshe is woman like the rest.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA I too will aid thee in this task, for by the children's hand\r\n\r\nI will send to her gifts that far surpass in beauty, I well know,\r\n\r\naught that now is seen 'mongst men, a robe of finest tissue and a\r\n\r\nchaplet of chased gold. But one of my attendants must haste and bring\r\n\r\nthe ornaments hither.\u00a0 (A servant goes into the house.)\u00a0 Happy shall\r\n\r\nshe be not once alone but ten thousand-fold, for in thee she wins\r\n\r\nthe noblest soul to share her love, and gets these gifts as well which\r\n\r\non a day my father's sire, the Sun-god, bestowed on his descendants.\r\n\r\n(The servant returns and hands the gifts to the children.)\u00a0 My children,\r\n\r\ntake in your hands these wedding gifts, and bear them as an offering\r\n\r\nto the royal maid, the happy bride; for verily the gifts she shall\r\n\r\nreceive are not to be scorned.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON But why so rashly rob thyself of these gifts? Dost think a\r\n\r\nroyal palace wants for robes or gold? Keep them, nor give them to\r\n\r\nanother. For well I know that if my lady hold me in esteem, she will\r\n\r\nset my price above all wealth.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Say not so; 'tis said that gifts tempt even gods; and o'er\r\n\r\nmen's minds gold holds more potent sway than countless words. Fortune\r\n\r\nsmiles upon thy bride, and heaven now doth swell her triumph; youth\r\n\r\nis hers and princely power; yet to save my children from exile I would\r\n\r\nbarter life, not dross alone. Children, when we are come to the rich\r\n\r\npalace, pray your father's new bride, my mistress, with suppliant\r\n\r\nvoice to save you from exile, offering her these ornaments the while;\r\n\r\nfor it is most needful that she receive the gifts in her own hand.\r\n\r\nNow go and linger not; may ye succeed and to your mother bring back\r\n\r\nthe glad tidings she fain would hear\u00a0 (JASON, the ATTENDANT, and the\r\n\r\nchildren go out together.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)\r\n\r\nGone, gone is every hope I had that the children yet might live;\r\n\r\nforth to their doom they now proceed. The hapless bride will take,\r\n\r\nay, take the golden crown that is to be her ruin; with her own hand\r\n\r\nwill she lift and place upon her golden locks the garniture of death.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 1)\r\n\r\nIts grace and sheen divine will tempt her to put on the robe and\r\n\r\ncrown of gold, and in that act will she deck herself to be a bride\r\n\r\namid the dead. Such is the snare whereinto she will fall, such is\r\n\r\nthe deadly doom that waits the hapless maid, nor shall she from the\r\n\r\ncurse escape.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(strophe 2)\r\n\r\nAnd thou, poor wretch, who to thy sorrow art wedding a king's daughter,\r\n\r\nlittle thinkest of the doom thou art bringing on thy children's life,\r\n\r\nor of the cruel death that waits thy bride. Woe is thee! how art thou\r\n\r\nfallen from thy high estate!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\n(antistrophe 2)\r\n\r\nNext do I bewail thy sorrows, O mother hapless in thy children, thou\r\n\r\nwho wilt slay thy babes because thou hast a rival, the babes thy husband\r\n\r\nhath deserted impiously to join him to another bride.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT\r\n\r\nenters with the children.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT Thy children, lady, are from exile freed, and gladly did\r\n\r\nthe royal bride accept thy gifts in her own hands, and so thy children\r\n\r\nmade their peace with her.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Ah!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT Why art so disquieted in thy prosperous hour? Why turnest\r\n\r\nthou thy cheek away, and hast no welcome for my glad news?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Ah me!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nATTENDANT These groans but ill accord with the news I bring.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Ah me! once more I say.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Have I unwittingly announced some evil tidings? Have I\r\n\r\nerred in thinking my news was good?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Thy news is as it is; I blame thee not.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Then why this downcast eye, these floods of tears?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Old friend, needs must I weep; for the gods and I with fell\r\n\r\nintent devised these schemes.\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Be of good cheer; thou too of a surety shalt by thy sons\r\n\r\nyet be brought home again.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Ere that shall I bring others to their home, ah! woe is me\r\n\r\nATTENDANT Thou art not the only mother from thy children reft. Bear\r\n\r\npatiently thy troubles as a mortal must.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA I will obey; go thou within the house and make the day's provision\r\n\r\nfor the children.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT enters the house. MEDEA turns to\r\n\r\nthe children.)\u00a0 O my babes, my babes, ye have still a city and a home,\r\n\r\nwhere far from me and my sad lot you will live your lives, reft of\r\n\r\nyour mother for ever; while I must to another land in banishment,\r\n\r\nor ever I have had my joy of you, or lived to see you happy, or ever\r\n\r\nI have graced your marriage couch, your bride, your bridal bower,\r\n\r\nor lifted high the wedding torch. Ah me! a victim of my own self-will.\r\n\r\nSo it was all in vain I reared you, O my sons; in vain did suffer,\r\n\r\nracked with anguish, enduring the cruel pangs of childbirth. 'Fore\r\n\r\nHeaven I once had hope, poor me! high hope of ye that you would nurse\r\n\r\nme in my age and deck my corpse with loving hands, a boon we mortals\r\n\r\ncovet; but now is my sweet fancy dead and gone; for I must lose you\r\n\r\nboth and in bitterness and sorrow drag through life. And ye shall\r\n\r\nnever with fond eyes see your mother more for o'er your life there\r\n\r\ncomes a change. Ah me! ah me! why do ye look at me so, my children?\r\n\r\nwhy smile that last sweet smile? Ah me! what am I to do? My heart\r\n\r\ngives way when I behold my children's laughing eyes. O, I cannot;\r\n\r\nfarewell to all my former schemes; I will take the children from the\r\n\r\nland, the babes I bore. Why should I wound their sire by wounding\r\n\r\nthem, and get me a twofold measure of sorrow? No, no, I will not do\r\n
    \r\n \t
  1. Farewell my scheming! And yet what possesses me? Can I consent<\/li>\r\n<\/ol>\r\nto let those foes of mine escape from punishment, and incur their\r\n\r\nmockery? I must face this deed. Out upon my craven heart! to think\r\n\r\nthat I should even have let the soft words escape my soul. Into the\r\n\r\nhouse, children!\u00a0 (The children go into the house.)\u00a0 And whoso feels\r\n\r\nhe must not be present at my sacrifice, must see to it himself; I\r\n\r\nwill not spoil my handiwork. Ah! ah! do not, my heart, O do not do\r\n\r\nthis deed! Let the children go, unhappy one, spare the babes! For\r\n\r\nif they live, they will cheer thee in our exile there. Nay, by the\r\n\r\nfiends of hell's abyss, never, never will I hand my children over\r\n\r\nto their foes to mock and flout. Die they must in any case, and since\r\n\r\n'tis so, why I, the mother who bore them, will give the fatal blow.\r\n\r\nIn any case their doom is fixed and there is no escape. Already the\r\n\r\ncrown is on her head, the robe is round her, and she is dying, the\r\n\r\nroyal bride; that do I know full well. But now since I have a piteous\r\n\r\npath to tread, and yet more piteous still the path I send my children\r\n\r\non, fain would I say farewell to them.\u00a0 (The children come out at\r\n\r\nher call. She takes them in her arms.)\u00a0 O my babes, my babes, let\r\n\r\nyour mother kiss your hands. Ah! hands I love so well, O lips most\r\n\r\ndear to me! O noble form and features of my children, I wish ye joy,\r\n\r\nbut in that other land, for here your father robs you of your home.\r\n\r\nO the sweet embrace, the soft young cheek, the fragrant breath! my\r\n\r\nchildren! Go, leave me; I cannot bear to longer look upon ye; my sorrow\r\n\r\nwins the day. At last I understand the awful deed I am to do; but\r\n\r\npassion, that cause of direst woes to mortal man, hath triumphed o'er\r\n\r\nmy sober thoughts.\u00a0 (She goes into the house with the children.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Oft ere now have I pursued subtler themes and\r\n\r\nhave faced graver issues than woman's sex should seek to probe; but\r\n\r\nthen e'en we aspire to culture, which dwells with us to teach us wisdom;\r\n\r\nI say not all; for small is the class amongst women-(one maybe shalt\r\n\r\nthou find 'mid many)-that is not incapable of wisdom. And amongst\r\n\r\nmortals I do assert that they who are wholly without experience and\r\n\r\nhave never had children far surpass in happiness those who are parents.\r\n\r\nThe childless, because they have never proved whether children grow\r\n\r\nup to be a blessing or curse to men are removed from all share in\r\n\r\nmany troubles; whilst those who have a sweet race of children growing\r\n\r\nup in their houses do wear away, as I perceive, their whole life through;\r\n\r\nfirst with the thought how they may train them up in virtue, next\r\n\r\nhow they shall leave their sons the means to live; and after all this\r\n\r\n'tis far from clear whether on good or bad children they bestow their\r\n\r\ntoil. But one last crowning woe for every mortal man now will name;\r\n\r\nsuppose that they have found sufficient means to live, and seen their\r\n\r\nchildren grow to man's estate and walk in virtue's path, still if\r\n\r\nfortune so befall, comes Death and bears the children's bodies off\r\n\r\nto Hades. Can it be any profit to the gods to heap upon us mortal\r\n\r\nmen beside our other woes this further grief for children lost, a\r\n\r\ngrief surpassing all?\u00a0 (MEDEA comes out of the house.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Kind friends, long have I waited expectantly to know how things\r\n\r\nwould at the palace chance. And lo! I see one of Jason's servants\r\n\r\ncoming hither, whose hurried gasps for breath proclaim him the bearer\r\n\r\nof some fresh tidings.\u00a0 (A MESSENGER rushes in.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMESSENGER Fly, fly, Medea! who hast wrought an awful deed, transgressing\r\n\r\nevery law: nor leave behind or sea-borne bark or car that scours the\r\n\r\nplain.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Why, what hath chanced that calls for such a flight of mine?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMESSENGER The princess is dead, a moment gone, and Creon too, her\r\n\r\nsire, slain by those drugs of thine.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Tidings most fair are thine! Henceforth shalt thou be ranked\r\n\r\namongst my friends and benefactors.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMESSENGER Ha! What? Art sane? Art not distraught, lady, who hearest\r\n\r\nwith joy the outrage to our royal house done, and art not at the horrid\r\n\r\ntale afraid?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Somewhat have I, too, to say in answer to thy words. Be not\r\n\r\nso hasty, friend, but tell the manner of their death, for thou wouldst\r\n\r\ngive me double joy, if so they perished miserably.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMESSENGER When the children twain whom thou didst bear came with\r\n\r\ntheir father and entered the palace of the bride, right glad were\r\n\r\nwe thralls who had shared thy griefs, for instantly from ear to ear\r\n\r\na rumour spread that thou and thy lord had made up your former quarrel.\r\n\r\nOne kissed thy children's hands, another their golden hair, while\r\n\r\nI for very joy went with them in person to the women's chambers. Our\r\n\r\nmistress, whom now we do revere in thy room, cast a longing glance\r\n\r\nat Jason, ere she saw thy children twain; but then she veiled her\r\n\r\neyes and turned her blanching cheek away, disgusted at their coming;\r\n\r\nbut thy husband tried to check his young bride's angry humour with\r\n\r\nthese words: \"O, be not angered 'gainst thy friends; cease from wrath\r\n\r\nand turn once more thy face this way, counting as friends whomso thy\r\n\r\nhusband counts, and accept these gifts, and for my sake crave thy\r\n\r\nsire to remit these children's exile.\" Soon as she saw the ornaments,\r\n\r\nno longer she held out, but yielded to her lord in all; and ere the\r\n\r\nfather and his sons were far from the palace gone, she took the broidered\r\n\r\nrobe and put it on, and set the golden crown about her tresses, arranging\r\n\r\nher hair at her bright mirror, with many a happy smile at her breathless\r\n\r\ncounterfeit. Then rising from her seat she passed across the chamber,\r\n\r\ntripping lightly on her fair white foot, exulting in the gift, with\r\n\r\nmany a glance at her uplifted ankle. When lo! a scene of awful horror\r\n\r\ndid ensue. In a moment she turned pale, reeled backwards, trembling\r\n\r\nin every limb, and sinks upon a seat scarce soon enough to save herself\r\n\r\nfrom falling to the ground. An aged dame, one of her company, thinking\r\n\r\nbelike it was a fit from Pan or some god sent, raised a cry of prayer,\r\n\r\ntill from her mouth she saw the foam-flakes issue, her eyeballs rolling\r\n\r\nin their sockets, and all the blood her face desert; then did she\r\n\r\nraise a loud scream far different from her former cry. Forthwith one\r\n\r\nhandmaid rushed to her father's house, another to her new bridegroom\r\n\r\nto tell his bride's sad fate, and the whole house echoed with their\r\n\r\nrunning to and fro. By this time would a quick walker have made the\r\n\r\nturn in a course of six plethra and reached the goal, when she with\r\n\r\none awful shriek awoke, poor sufferer, from her speechless trance\r\n\r\nand oped her closed eyes, for against her a twofold anguish was warring.\r\n\r\nThe chaplet of gold about her head was sending forth a wondrous stream\r\n\r\nof ravening flame, while the fine raiment, thy children's gift, was\r\n\r\npreying on the hapless maiden's fair white flesh; and she starts from\r\n\r\nher seat in a blaze and seeks to fly, shaking her hair and head this\r\n\r\nway and that, to cast the crown therefrom; but the gold held firm\r\n\r\nto its fastenings, and the flame, as she shook her locks, blazed forth\r\n\r\nthe more with double fury. Then to the earth she sinks, by the cruel\r\n\r\nblow o'ercome; past all recognition now save to a father's eye; for\r\n\r\nher eyes had lost their tranquil gaze, her face no more its natural\r\n\r\nlook preserved, and from the crown of her head blood and fire in mingled\r\n\r\nstream ran down; and from her bones the flesh kept peeling off beneath\r\n\r\nthe gnawing of those secret drugs, e'en as when the pine-tree weeps\r\n\r\nits tears of pitch, a fearsome sight to see. And all were afraid to\r\n\r\ntouch the corpse, for we were warned by what had chanced. Anon came\r\n\r\nher haples father unto the house, all unwitting of her doom, and stumbles\r\n\r\no'er the dead, and loud he cried, and folding his arms about her kissed\r\n\r\nher, with words like these the while, \"O my poor, poor child, which\r\n\r\nof the gods hath destroyed thee thus foully? Who is robbing me of\r\n\r\nthee, old as I am and ripe for death? O my child, alas! would I could\r\n\r\ndie with thee!\" He ceased his sad lament, and would have raised his\r\n\r\naged frame, but found himself held fast by the fine-spun robe as ivy\r\n\r\nthat clings to the branches of the bay, and then ensued a fearful\r\n\r\nstruggle. He strove to rise, but she still held him back; and if ever\r\n\r\nhe pulled with all his might, from off his bones his aged flesh he\r\n\r\ntore. At last he gave it up, and breathed forth his soul in awful\r\n\r\nsuffering; for he could no longer master the pain. So there they lie,\r\n\r\ndaughter and aged sire, dead side by side, a grievous sight that calls\r\n\r\nfor tears. And as for thee, I leave thee out of my consideration,\r\n\r\nfor thyself must discover a means to escape punishment. Not now for\r\n\r\nthe first time I think this human life a shadow; yea, and without\r\n\r\nshrinking I will say that they amongst men who pretend to wisdom and\r\n\r\nexpend deep thought on words do incur a serious charge of folly; for\r\n\r\namongst mortals no man is happy; wealth may pour in and make one luckier\r\n\r\nthan another, but none can happy be.\u00a0 (The MESSENGER departs.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS This day the deity, it seems, will mass on Jason,\r\n\r\nas he well deserves, heavy load of evils. Woe is thee, daughter of\r\n\r\nCreon We pity thy sad fate, gone as thou art to Hades' halls as the\r\n\r\nprice of thy marriage with Jason.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA My friends, I am resolved upon the deed; at once will I slay\r\n\r\nmy children and then leave this land, without delaying long enough\r\n\r\nto hand them over to some more savage hand to butcher. Needs must\r\n\r\nthey die in any case; and since they must, I will slay them-I, the\r\n\r\nmother that bare them. O heart of mine, steel thyself! Why do I hesitate\r\n\r\nto do the awful deed that must be done? Come, take the sword, thou\r\n\r\nwretched hand of mine! Take it, and advance to the post whence starts\r\n\r\nthy life of sorrow! Away with cowardice! Give not one thought to thy\r\n\r\nbabes, how dear they are or how thou art their mother. This one brief\r\n\r\nday forget thy children dear, and after that lament; for though thou\r\n\r\nwilt slay them yet they were thy darlings still, and I am a lady of\r\n\r\nsorrows.\u00a0 (MEDEA enters the house.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) O earth, O sun whose beam illumines all, look,\r\n\r\nlook upon this lost woman, ere she stretch forth her murderous hand\r\n\r\nupon her sons for blood; for lo! these are scions of thy own golden\r\n\r\nseed, and the blood of gods is in danger of being shed by man. O light,\r\n\r\nfrom Zeus proceeding, stay her, hold her hand, forth from the house\r\n\r\nchase this fell bloody fiend by demons led. Vainly wasted were the\r\n\r\nthroes thy children cost thee; vainly hast thou borne, it seems, sweet\r\n\r\nbabes, O thou who hast left behind thee that passage through the blue\r\n\r\nSymplegades, that strangers justly hate. Ah! hapless one, why doth\r\n\r\nfierce anger thy soul assail? Why in its place is fell murder growing\r\n\r\nup? For grievous unto mortal men are pollutions that come of kindred\r\n\r\nblood poured on the earth, woes to suit each crime hurled from heaven\r\n\r\non the murderer's house.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nFIRST SON\u00a0 (within) Ah, me; what can I do? Whither fly to escape\r\n\r\nmy mother's blows?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nSECOND SON\u00a0 (within) I know not, sweet brother mine; we are lost.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Didst hear, didst hear the children's cry? O lady,\r\n\r\nborn to sorrow, victim of an evil fate! Shall I enter the house? For\r\n\r\nthe children's sake I am resolved to ward off the murder.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nFIRST SON\u00a0 (within) Yea, by heaven I adjure you; help, your aid is\r\n\r\nneeded.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nSECOND SON\u00a0 (within) Even now the toils of the sword are closing\r\n\r\nround us.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) O hapless mother, surely thou hast a heart of\r\n\r\nstone or steel to slay the offspring of thy womb by such a murderous\r\n\r\ndoom. Of all the wives of yore I know but one who laid her hand upon\r\n\r\nher children dear, even Ino, whom the gods did madden in the day that\r\n\r\nthe wife of Zeus drove her wandering from her home. But she, poor\r\n\r\nsufferer, flung herself into the sea because of the foul murder of\r\n\r\nher children, leaping o'er the wave-beat cliff, and in her death was\r\n\r\nshe united to her children twain. Can there be any deed of horror\r\n\r\nleft to follow this? Woe for the wooing of women fraught with disaster!\r\n\r\nWhat sorrows hast thou caused for men ere now!\u00a0 (JASON and his attendants\r\n\r\nenter.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Ladies, stationed near this house, pray tell me is the author\r\n\r\nof these hideous deeds, Medea, still within, or hath she fled from\r\n\r\nhence? For she must hide beneath the earth or soar on wings towards\r\n\r\nheaven's vault, if she would avoid the vengeance of the royal house.\r\n\r\nIs she so sure she will escape herself unpunished from this house,\r\n\r\nwhen she hath slain the rulers of the land? But enough of this! I\r\n\r\nam forgetting her children. As for her, those whom she hath wronged\r\n\r\nwill do the like by her; but I am come to save the children's life,\r\n\r\nlest the victim's kin visit their wrath on me, in vengeance for the\r\n\r\nmurder foul, wrought by my children's mother.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Unhappy man, thou knowest not the full extent\r\n\r\nof thy misery, else had thou never said those words.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON How now? Can she want to kill me too?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER Thy sons are dead; slain by their own mother's hand.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON O God! what sayest thou? Woman, thou hast sealed my doom.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER Thy children are no more; be sure of this.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Where slew she them; within the palace or outside?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nLEADER Throw wide the doors and see thy children's murdered corpses.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Haste, ye slaves, loose the bolts, undo the fastenings, that\r\n\r\nI may see the sight of twofold woe, my murdered sons and her, whose\r\n\r\nblood in vengeance I will shed.\u00a0 (MEDEA appears above the house, on\r\n\r\na chariot drawn by dragons; the children's corpses are beside her.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Why shake those doors and attempt to loose their bolts, in\r\n\r\nquest of the dead and me their murderess? From such toil desist. If\r\n\r\nthou wouldst aught with me, say on, if so thou wilt; but never shalt\r\n\r\nthou lay hand on me, so swift the steeds the sun, my father's sire,\r\n\r\nto me doth give to save me from the hand of my foes.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Accursed woman! by gods, by me and all mankind abhorred as\r\n\r\nnever woman was, who hadst the heart to stab thy babes, thou their\r\n\r\nmother, leaving me undone and childless; this hast thou done and still\r\n\r\ndost gaze upon the sun and earth after this deed most impious. Curses\r\n\r\non thee! now perceive what then I missed in the day I brought thee,\r\n\r\nfraught with doom, from thy home in a barbarian land to dwell in Hellas,\r\n\r\ntraitress to thy sire and to the land that nurtured thee. On me the\r\n\r\ngods have hurled the curse that dogged thy steps, for thou didst slay\r\n\r\nthy brother at his hearth ere thou cam'st aboard our fair ship, Argo.\r\n\r\nSuch was the outset of thy life of crime; then didst thou wed with\r\n\r\nme, and having borne me sons to glut thy passion's lust, thou now\r\n\r\nhast slain them. Not one amongst the wives of Hellas e'er had dared\r\n\r\nthis deed; yet before them all I chose thee for my wife, wedding a\r\n\r\nfoe to be my doom, no woman, but a lioness fiercer than Tyrrhene Scylla\r\n\r\nin nature. But with reproaches heaped thousandfold I cannot wound\r\n\r\nthee, so brazen is thy nature. Perish, vile sorceress, murderess of\r\n\r\nthy babes! Whilst I must mourn my luckless fate, for I shall ne'er\r\n\r\nenjoy my new-found bride, nor shall I have the children, whom I bred\r\n\r\nand reared, alive to say the last farewell to me; nay, I have lost\r\n\r\nthem.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA To this thy speech I could have made a long reply, but Father\r\n\r\nZeus knows well all I have done for thee, and the treatment thou hast\r\n\r\ngiven me. Yet thou wert not ordained to scorn my love and lead a life\r\n\r\nof joy in mockery of me, nor was thy royal bride nor Creon, who gave\r\n\r\nthee a second wife, to thrust me from this land and rue it not. Wherefore,\r\n\r\nif thou wilt, call me e'en a lioness, and Scylla, whose home is in\r\n\r\nthe Tyrrhene land; for I in turn have wrung thy heart, as well I might.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Thou, too, art grieved thyself, and sharest in my sorrow.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA Be well assured I am; but it relieves my pain to know thou\r\n\r\ncanst not mock at me.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON O my children, how vile a mother ye have found!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA My sons, your father's feeble lust has been your ruin!\r\n\r\nJASON 'Twas not my hand, at any rate, that slew them.\r\n\r\nMEDEA No, but thy foul treatment of me, and thy new marriage.\r\n\r\nJASON Didst think that marriage cause enough to murder them?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Dost think a woman counts this a trifling injury?\r\n\r\nJASON So she be self-restrained; but in thy eyes all is evil.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Thy sons are dead and gone. That will stab thy heart.\r\n\r\nJASON They live, methinks, to bring a curse upon thy head.\r\n\r\nMEDEA The gods know, whoso of them began this troublous coil.\r\n\r\nJASON Indeed, they know that hateful heart of thine.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Thou art as hateful. I am aweary of thy bitter tongue.\r\n\r\nJASON And I likewise of thine. But parting is easy.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Say how; what am I to do? for I am fain as thou to go.\r\n\r\nJASON Give up to me those dead, to bury and lament.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA No, never! I will bury them myself, bearing them to Hera's\r\n\r\nsacred field, who watches o'er the Cape, that none of their foes may\r\n\r\ninsult them by pulling down their tombs; and in this land of Sisyphus\r\n\r\nI will ordain hereafter a solemn feast and mystic rites to atone for\r\n\r\nthis impious murder. Myself will now to the land of Erechtheus, to\r\n\r\ndwell with Aegeus, Pandion's son. But thou, as well thou mayst, shalt\r\n\r\ndie a caitiff's death, thy head crushed 'neath a shattered relic of\r\n\r\nArgo, when thou hast seen the bitter ending of my marriage.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON The curse of our sons' avenging spirit and of justice, that\r\n\r\ncalls for blood, be on thee!\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nMEDEA What god or power divine hears thee, breaker of oaths and every\r\n\r\nlaw of hospitality?\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON Fie upon thee! cursed witch! child-murderess!\r\n\r\nMEDEA To thy house! go, bury thy wife.\r\n\r\nJASON I go, bereft of both my sons.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Thy grief is yet to come; wait till old age is with thee too.\r\n\r\nJASON O my dear, dear children!\r\n\r\nMEDEA Dear to their mother, not to thee.\r\n\r\nJASON And yet thou didst slay them?\r\n\r\nMEDEA Yea, to vex thy heart.\r\n\r\nJASON One last fond kiss, ah me! I fain would on their lips imprint.\r\n\r\nMEDEA Embraces now, and fond farewells for them; but then a cold\r\n\r\nrepulse!\r\n\r\nJASON By heaven I do adjure thee, let me touch their tender skin.\r\n\r\nMEDEA No, no! in vain this word has sped its flight.\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nJASON O Zeus, dost hear how I am driven hence; dost mark the treatment\r\n\r\nI receive from this she-lion, fell murderess of her young? Yet so\r\n\r\nfar as I may and can, I raise for them a dirge, and do adjure the\r\n\r\ngods to witness how thou hast slain my sons, and wilt not suffer me\r\n\r\nto embrace or bury their dead bodies. Would I had never begotten them\r\n\r\nto see thee slay them after all!\u00a0 (The chariot carries MEDEA away.)\r\n\r\n \r\n\r\nCHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Many a fate doth Zeus dispense, high on his Olympian\r\n\r\nthrone; oft do the gods bring things to pass beyond man's expectation;\r\n\r\nthat, which we thought would be, is not fulfilled, while for the unlooked-for\r\n\r\ngod finds out a way; and such hath been the issue of this matter.\r\n\r\nTHE END\r\n\r\n ","rendered":"

    Translated by E. P. Coleridge<\/p>\n

    Dramatis Personae<\/p>\n

    NURSE OF MEDEA<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT ON HER CHILDREN<\/p>\n

    MEDEA<\/p>\n

    CHORUS OF CORINTHIAN WOMEN<\/p>\n

    CREON, King of Corinth<\/p>\n

    JASON<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS, King of Athens<\/p>\n

    MESSENGER<\/p>\n

    Before MEDEA’s house in Corinth, near the palace Of CREON. The NURSE<\/p>\n

    enters from the house.<\/p>\n

    ———————————————————————-<\/p>\n

    NURSE Ah! Would to Heaven the good ship Argo ne’er had sped its<\/p>\n

    course to the Colchian land through the misty blue Symplegades, nor<\/p>\n

    ever in the glens of Pelion the pine been felled to furnish with oars<\/p>\n

    the chieftain’s hands, who went to fetch the golden fleece for Pelias;<\/p>\n

    for then would my own mistress Medea never have sailed to the turrets<\/p>\n

    of Iolcos, her soul with love for Jason smitten, nor would she have<\/p>\n

    beguiled the daughters of Pelias to slay their father and come to<\/p>\n

    live here in the land of Corinth with her husband and children, where<\/p>\n

    her exile found favour with the citizens to whose land she had come,<\/p>\n

    and in all things of her own accord was she at one with Jason, the<\/p>\n

    greatest safeguard this when wife and husband do agree; but now their<\/p>\n

    love is all turned to hate, and tenderest ties are weak. For Jason<\/p>\n

    hath betrayed his own children and my mistress dear for the love of<\/p>\n

    a royal bride, for he hath wedded the daughter of Creon, lord of this<\/p>\n

    land. While Medea, his hapless wife, thus scorned, appeals to the<\/p>\n

    oaths he swore, recalls the strong pledge his right hand gave, and<\/p>\n

    bids heaven be witness what requital she is finding from Jason. And<\/p>\n

    here she lies fasting, yielding her body to her grief, wasting away<\/p>\n

    in tears ever since she learnt that she was wronged by her husband,<\/p>\n

    never lifting her eye nor raising her face from off the ground; and<\/p>\n

    she lends as deaf an ear to her friend’s warning as if she were a<\/p>\n

    rock or ocean billow, save when she turns her snow-white neck aside<\/p>\n

    and softly to herself bemoans her father dear, her country and her<\/p>\n

    home, which she gave up to come hither with the man who now holds<\/p>\n

    her in dishonour. She, poor lady, hath by sad experience learnt how<\/p>\n

    good a thing it is never to quit one’s native land. And she hates<\/p>\n

    her children now and feels no joy at seeing them; I fear she may contrive<\/p>\n

    some untoward scheme; for her mood is dangerous nor will she brook<\/p>\n

    her cruel treatment; full well I know her, and I much do dread that<\/p>\n

    she will plunge the keen sword through their hearts, stealing without<\/p>\n

    a word into the chamber where their marriage couch is spread, or else<\/p>\n

    that she will slay the prince and bridegroom too, and so find some<\/p>\n

    calamity still more grievous than the present; for dreadful is her<\/p>\n

    wrath; verily the man that doth incur her hate will have no easy task<\/p>\n

    to raise o’er her a song of triumph. Lo! where her sons come hither<\/p>\n

    from their childish sports; little they reck of their mother’s woes,<\/p>\n

    for the soul of the young is no friend to sorrow.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT<\/p>\n

    leads in MEDEA’S children.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Why dost thou, so long my lady’s own handmaid, stand here<\/p>\n

    at the gate alone, loudly lamenting to thyself the piteous tale? how<\/p>\n

    comes it that Medea will have thee leave her to herself?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE Old man, attendant on the sons of Jason, our masters’ fortunes<\/p>\n

    when they go awry make good slaves grieve and touch their hearts.<\/p>\n

    Oh! have come to such a pitch of grief that there stole a yearning<\/p>\n

    wish upon me to come forth hither and proclaim to heaven and earth<\/p>\n

    my mistress’s hard fate.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT What! has not the poor lady ceased yet from her lamentation?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE Would I were as thou art! the mischief is but now beginning;<\/p>\n

    it has not reached its climax yet.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT O foolish one, if I may call my mistress such a name; how<\/p>\n

    little she recks of evils yet more recent!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE What mean’st, old man? grudge not to tell me.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT ‘Tis naught; I do repent me even of the words I have spoken.<\/p>\n

    NURSE Nay, by thy beard I conjure thee, hide it not from thy fellow-slave;<\/p>\n

    will be silent, if need be, on that text.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT I heard one say, pretending not to listen as I approached<\/p>\n

    the place where our greybeards sit playing draughts near Pirene’s<\/p>\n

    sacred spring, that Creon, the ruler of this land, is bent on driving<\/p>\n

    these children and their mother from the boundaries of Corinth; but<\/p>\n

    I know not whether the news is to be relied upon, and would fain it<\/p>\n

    were not.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE What! will Jason brook such treatment of his sons, even though<\/p>\n

    he be at variance with their mother?<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Old ties give way to new; he bears no longer any love to<\/p>\n

    this family.<\/p>\n

    NURSE Undone, it seems, are we, if to old woes fresh ones we add,<\/p>\n

    ere we have drained the former to the dregs.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Hold thou thy peace, say not a word of this; ’tis no time<\/p>\n

    for our mistress to learn hereof.<\/p>\n

    NURSE O children, do ye hear how your father feels towards you? Perdition<\/p>\n

    catch him, but no he is my master still; yet is he proved a very traitor<\/p>\n

    to his nearest and dearest.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT And who ‘mongst men is not? Art learning only now, that<\/p>\n

    every single man cares for himself more than for his neighbour, some<\/p>\n

    from honest motives, others for mere gain’s sake? seeing that to indulge<\/p>\n

    his passion their father has ceased to love these children.<\/p>\n

    NURSE Go, children, within the house; all will be well. Do thou keep<\/p>\n

    them as far away as may be, and bring them not near their mother in<\/p>\n

    her evil hour. For ere this have I seen her eyeing them savagely,<\/p>\n

    as though she were minded to do them some hurt, and well I know she<\/p>\n

    will not cease from her fury till she have pounced on some victim.<\/p>\n

    At least may she turn her hand against her foes, and not against her<\/p>\n

    friends.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA\u00a0 (chanting within) Ah, me! a wretched suffering woman I! O<\/p>\n

    would that I could die!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE\u00a0 (chanting) ‘Tis as I said, my dear children; wild fancies<\/p>\n

    stir your mother’s heart, wild fury goads her on. Into the house without<\/p>\n

    delay, come not near her eye, approach her not, beware her savage<\/p>\n

    mood, the fell tempest of her reckless heart. In, in with what speed<\/p>\n

    ye may. For ’tis plain she will soon redouble her fury; that cry is<\/p>\n

    but the herald of the gathering storm-cloud whose lightning soon will<\/p>\n

    flash; what will her proud restless soul, in the anguish of despair,<\/p>\n

    be guilty of?\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT takes the children into the house. MEDEA<\/p>\n

    (chanting within)\u00a0 Ah, me! the agony I have suffered, deep enough<\/p>\n

    to call for these laments! Curse you and your father too, ye children<\/p>\n

    damned, sons of a doomed mother! Ruin seize the whole family!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE\u00a0 (chanting) Ah me! ah me! the pity of it! Why, pray, do thy<\/p>\n

    children share their father’s crime? Why hatest thou them? Woe is<\/p>\n

    you, poor children, how do I grieve for you lest ye suffer some outrage!<\/p>\n

    Strange are the tempers of princes, and maybe because they seldom<\/p>\n

    have to obey, and mostly lord it over others, change they their moods<\/p>\n

    with difficulty. ‘Tis better then to have been trained to live on<\/p>\n

    equal terms. Be it mine to reach old age, not in proud pomp, but in<\/p>\n

    security! Moderation wins the day first as a better word for men to<\/p>\n

    use, and likewise it is far the best course for them to pursue; but<\/p>\n

    greatness that doth o’erreach itself, brings no blessing to mortal<\/p>\n

    men; but pays a penalty of greater ruin whenever fortune is wroth<\/p>\n

    with a family.\u00a0 (The CHORUS enters. The following lines between the<\/p>\n

    NURSE, CHORUS, and MEDEA are sung.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS I heard the voice, uplifted loud, of our poor Colchian lady,<\/p>\n

    nor yet is she quiet; speak, aged dame, for as I stood by the house<\/p>\n

    with double gates I heard a voice of weeping from within, and I do<\/p>\n

    grieve, lady, for the sorrows of this house, for it hath won my love.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE ‘Tis a house no more; all that is passed away long since; a<\/p>\n

    royal bride keeps Jason at her side, while our mistress pines away<\/p>\n

    in her bower, finding no comfort for her soul in aught her friends<\/p>\n

    can say.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA\u00a0 (within) Oh, oh! Would that Heaven’s levin bolt would cleave<\/p>\n

    this head in twain! What gain is life to me? Woe, woe is me! O, to<\/p>\n

    die and win release, quitting this loathed existence!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS Didst hear, O Zeus, thou earth, and thou, O light, the piteous<\/p>\n

    note of woe the hapless wife is uttering? How shall a yearning for<\/p>\n

    that insatiate resting-place ever hasten for thee, poor reckless one,<\/p>\n

    the end that death alone can bring? Never pray for that. And if thy<\/p>\n

    lord prefers a fresh love, be not angered with him for that; Zeus<\/p>\n

    will judge ‘twixt thee and him herein. Then mourn not for thy husband’s<\/p>\n

    loss too much, nor waste thyself away.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA\u00a0 (within) Great Themis, and husband of Themis, behold what<\/p>\n

    I am suffering now, though I did bind that accursed one, my husband,<\/p>\n

    by strong oaths to me! O, to see him and his bride some day brought<\/p>\n

    to utter destruction, they and their house with them, for that they<\/p>\n

    presume to wrong me thus unprovoked. O my father, my country, that<\/p>\n

    I have left to my shame, after slaying my own brother.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE Do ye hear her words, how loudly she adjures Themis, oft invoked,<\/p>\n

    and Zeus, whom men regard as keeper of their oaths? On no mere trifle<\/p>\n

    surely will our mistress spend her rage.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS Would that she would come forth for us to see, and listen<\/p>\n

    to the words of counsel we might give, if haply she might lay aside<\/p>\n

    the fierce fury of her wrath, and her temper stern. Never be my zeal<\/p>\n

    at any rate denied my friends! But go thou and bring her hither outside<\/p>\n

    the house, and tell her this our friendly thought; haste thee ere<\/p>\n

    she do some mischief to those inside the house, for this sorrow of<\/p>\n

    hers is mounting high.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    NURSE This will I do; but I doubt whether I shall persuade my mistress;<\/p>\n

    still willingly will I undertake this trouble for you; albeit, she<\/p>\n

    glares upon her servants with the look of a lioness with cubs, whenso<\/p>\n

    anyone draws nigh to speak to her. Wert thou to call the men of old<\/p>\n

    time rude uncultured boors thou wouldst not err, seeing that they<\/p>\n

    devised their hymns for festive occasions, for banquets, and to grace<\/p>\n

    the board, a pleasure to catch the ear, shed o’er our life, but no<\/p>\n

    man hath found a way to allay hated grief by music and the minstrel’s<\/p>\n

    varied strain, whence arise slaughters and fell strokes of fate to<\/p>\n

    o’erthrow the homes of men. And yet this were surely a gain, to heal<\/p>\n

    men’s wounds by music’s spell, but why tune they their idle song where<\/p>\n

    rich banquets are spread? For of itself doth the rich banquet, set<\/p>\n

    before them, afford to men delight.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS I heard a bitter cry of lamentation! loudly, bitterly she<\/p>\n

    calls on the traitor of her marriage bed, her perfidious spouse; by<\/p>\n

    grievous wrongs oppressed she invokes Themis, bride of Zeus, witness<\/p>\n

    of oaths, who brought her unto Hellas, the land that fronts the strand<\/p>\n

    of Asia, o’er the sea by night through ocean’s boundless gate.\u00a0 (As<\/p>\n

    the CHORUS finishes its song, MEDEA enters from the house.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA From the house I have come forth, Corinthian ladies, for fear<\/p>\n

    lest you be blaming me; for well I know that amongst men many by showing<\/p>\n

    pride have gotten them an ill name and a reputation for indifference,<\/p>\n

    both those who shun men’s gaze and those who move amid the stranger<\/p>\n

    crowd, and likewise they who choose a quiet walk in life. For there<\/p>\n

    is no just discernment in the eyes of men, for they, or ever they<\/p>\n

    have surely learnt their neighbour’s heart, loathe him at first sight,<\/p>\n

    though never wronged by him; and so a stranger most of all should<\/p>\n

    adopt a city’s views; nor do I commend that citizen, who, in the stubbornness<\/p>\n

    of his heart, from churlishness resents the city’s will.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    But on me hath fallen this unforeseen disaster, and sapped my life;<\/p>\n

    ruined I am, and long to resign the boon of existence, kind friends,<\/p>\n

    and die. For he who was all the world to me, as well thou knowest,<\/p>\n

    hath turned out the worst of men, my own husband. Of all things that<\/p>\n

    have life and sense we women are the most hapless creatures; first<\/p>\n

    must we buy a husband at a great price, and o’er ourselves a tyrant<\/p>\n

    set which is an evil worse than the first; and herein lies the most<\/p>\n

    important issue, whether our choice be good or bad. For divorce is<\/p>\n

    not honourable to women, nor can we disown our lords. Next must the<\/p>\n

    wife, coming as she does to ways and customs new, since she hath not<\/p>\n

    learnt the lesson in her home, have a diviner’s eye to see how best<\/p>\n

    to treat the partner of her life. If haply we perform these tasks<\/p>\n

    with thoroughness and tact, and the husband live with us, without<\/p>\n

    resenting the yoke, our life is a happy one; if not, ’twere best to<\/p>\n

    die. But when a man is vexed with what he finds indoors, he goeth<\/p>\n

    forth and rids his soul of its disgust, betaking him to some friend<\/p>\n

    or comrade of like age; whilst we must needs regard his single self.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    And yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the wars,<\/p>\n

    with their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand in battle<\/p>\n

    array three times o’er, than once give birth. But enough! this language<\/p>\n

    suits not thee as it does me; thou hast a city here, a father’s house,<\/p>\n

    some joy in life, and friends to share thy thoughts, but I am destitute,<\/p>\n

    without a city, and therefore scorned by my husband, a captive I from<\/p>\n

    a foreign shore, with no mother, brother, or kinsman in whom to find<\/p>\n

    a new haven of refuge from this calamity. Wherefore this one boon<\/p>\n

    and only this I wish to win from thee,-thy silence, if haply I can<\/p>\n

    some way or means devise to avenge me on my husband for this cruel<\/p>\n

    treatment, and on the man who gave to him his daughter, and on her<\/p>\n

    who is his wife. For though woman be timorous enough in all else,<\/p>\n

    and as regards courage, a coward at the mere sight of steel, yet in<\/p>\n

    the moment she finds her honour wronged, no heart is filled with deadlier<\/p>\n

    thoughts than hers.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER OF THE CHORUS This will I do; for thou wilt be taking a just<\/p>\n

    vengeance on thy husband, Medea. That thou shouldst mourn thy lot<\/p>\n

    surprises me not. But lo! I see Creon, king of this land coming hither,<\/p>\n

    to announce some new resolve.\u00a0 (CREON enters, with his retinue.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CREON Hark thee, Medea, I bid thee take those sullen looks and angry<\/p>\n

    thoughts against thy husband forth from this land in exile, and with<\/p>\n

    thee take both thy children and that without delay, for I am judge<\/p>\n

    in this sentence, and I will not return unto my house till I banish<\/p>\n

    thee beyond the borders of the land.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ah, me! now is utter destruction come upon me, unhappy that<\/p>\n

    I am! For my enemies are bearing down on me full sail, nor have I<\/p>\n

    any landing-place to come at in my trouble. Yet for all my wretched<\/p>\n

    plight I will ask thee, Creon, wherefore dost thou drive me from the<\/p>\n

    land?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CREON I fear thee,-no longer need I veil my dread ‘neath words,-lest<\/p>\n

    thou devise against my child some cureless ill. Many things contribute<\/p>\n

    to this fear of mine; thou art a witch by nature, expert in countless<\/p>\n

    sorceries, and thou art chafing for the loss of thy husband’s affection.<\/p>\n

    I hear, too, so they tell me, that thou dost threaten the father of<\/p>\n

    the bride, her husband, and herself with some mischief; wherefore<\/p>\n

    I will take precautions ere our troubles come. For ’tis better for<\/p>\n

    me to incur thy hatred now, lady, than to soften my heart and bitterly<\/p>\n

    repent it hereafter.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Alas! this is not now the first time, but oft before, O Creon,<\/p>\n

    hath my reputation injured me and caused sore mischief. Wherefore<\/p>\n

    whoso is wise in his generation ought never to have his children taught<\/p>\n

    to be too clever; for besides the reputation they get for idleness,<\/p>\n

    they purchase bitter odium from the citizens. For if thou shouldst<\/p>\n

    import new learning amongst dullards, thou wilt be thought a useless<\/p>\n

    trifler, void of knowledge; while if thy fame in the city o’ertops<\/p>\n

    that of the pretenders to cunning knowledge, thou wilt win their dislike.<\/p>\n

    I too myself share in this ill-luck. Some think me clever and hate<\/p>\n

    me, others say I am too reserved, and some the very reverse; others<\/p>\n

    find me hard to please and not so very clever after all. Be that as<\/p>\n

    it may, thou dost fear me lest I bring on thee something to mar thy<\/p>\n

    harmony. Fear me not, Creon, my position scarce is such that should<\/p>\n

    seek to quarrel with princes. Why should I, for how hast thou injured<\/p>\n

    me? Thou hast betrothed thy daughter where thy fancy prompted thee.<\/p>\n

    No, ’tis my husband I hate, though I doubt not thou hast acted wisely<\/p>\n

    herein. And now I grudge not thy prosperity; betroth thy child, good<\/p>\n

    luck to thee, but let me abide in this land, for though I have been<\/p>\n

    wronged I will be still and yield to my superiors.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CREON Thy words are soft to hear, but much I dread lest thou art<\/p>\n

    devising some mischief in thy heart, and less than ever do I trust<\/p>\n

    thee now; for cunning woman, and man likewise, is easier to guard<\/p>\n

    against when quick-tempered than when taciturn. Nay, begone at once!<\/p>\n

    speak me no speeches, for this is decreed, nor hast thou any art whereby<\/p>\n

    thou shalt abide amongst us, since thou hatest me.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA O, say not so! by thy knees and by thy daughter newlywed, I<\/p>\n

    do implore!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CREON Thou wastest words; thou wilt never persuade me.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA What, wilt thou banish me, and to my prayers no pity yield?<\/p>\n

    CREON I will, for I love not thee above my own family.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA O my country! what fond memories I have of thee in this hour!<\/p>\n

    CREON Yea, for I myself love my city best of all things save my children.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ah me! ah me! to mortal man how dread a scourge is love!<\/p>\n

    CREON That, I deem, is according to the turn our fortunes take.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA O Zeus! let not the author of these my troubles escape thee.<\/p>\n

    CREON Begone, thou silly woman, and free me from my toil.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA The toil is mine, no lack of it.<\/p>\n

    CREON Soon wilt thou be thrust out forcibly by the hand of servants.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Not that, not that, I do entreat thee, Creon<\/p>\n

    CREON Thou wilt cause disturbance yet, it seems.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA I will begone; I ask thee not this boon to grant.<\/p>\n

    CREON Why then this violence? why dost thou not depart?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Suffer me to abide this single day and devise some plan for<\/p>\n

    the manner of my exile, and means of living for my children, since<\/p>\n

    their father cares not to provide his babes therewith. Then pity them;<\/p>\n

    thou too hast children of thine own; thou needs must have a kindly<\/p>\n

    heart. For my own lot I care naught, though I an exile am, but for<\/p>\n

    those babes I weep, that they should learn what sorrow means.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CREON Mine is a nature anything but harsh; full oft by showing pity<\/p>\n

    have suffered shipwreck; and now albeit I clearly see my error, yet<\/p>\n

    shalt thou gain this request, lady; but I do forewarn thee, if tomorrow’s<\/p>\n

    rising sun shall find thee and thy children within the borders of<\/p>\n

    this land, thou diest; my word is spoken and it will not lie. So now,<\/p>\n

    if abide thou must, stay this one day only, for in it thou canst not<\/p>\n

    do any of the fearful deeds I dread.\u00a0 (CREON and his retinue go out.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Ah! poor lady, woe is thee! Alas, for thy sorrows!<\/p>\n

    Whither wilt thou turn? What protection, what home or country to save<\/p>\n

    thee from thy troubles wilt thou find? O Medea, in what a hopeless<\/p>\n

    sea of misery heaven hath plunged thee!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA On all sides sorrow pens me in. Who shall gainsay this? But<\/p>\n

    all is not yet lost! think not so. Still are there troubles in store<\/p>\n

    for the new bride, and for her bridegroom no light toil. Dost think<\/p>\n

    I would ever have fawned on yonder man, unless to gain some end or<\/p>\n

    form some scheme? Nay, would not so much as have spoken to him or<\/p>\n

    touched him with my hand. But he has in folly so far stepped in that,<\/p>\n

    though he might have checked my plot by banishing me from the land,<\/p>\n

    he hath allowed me to abide this day, in which I will lay low in death<\/p>\n

    three of my enemies-a father and his daughter and my husband too.<\/p>\n

    Now, though I have many ways to compass their death, I am not sure,<\/p>\n

    friends, which I am to try first. Shall I set fire to the bridal mansion,<\/p>\n

    or plunge the whetted sword through their hearts, softly stealing<\/p>\n

    into the chamber where their couch is spread? One thing stands in<\/p>\n

    my way. If I am caught making my way into the chamber, intent on my<\/p>\n

    design, I shall be put to death and cause my foes to mock, ‘Twere<\/p>\n

    best to take the shortest way-the way we women are most skilled in-by<\/p>\n

    poison to destroy them. Well, suppose them dead; what city will receive<\/p>\n

    me? What friendly host will give me a shelter in his land, a home<\/p>\n

    secure, and save my soul alive? None. So I will wait yet a little<\/p>\n

    while in case some tower of defence rise up for me; then will I proceed<\/p>\n

    to this bloody deed in crafty silence; but if some unexpected mischance<\/p>\n

    drive me forth, I will with mine own hand seize the sword, e’en though<\/p>\n

    I die for it, and slay them, and go forth on my bold path of daring.<\/p>\n

    By that dread queen whom I revere before all others and have chosen<\/p>\n

    to share my task, by Hecate who dwells within my inmost chamber, not<\/p>\n

    one of them shall wound my heart and rue it not. Bitter and sad will<\/p>\n

    I make their marriage for them; bitter shall be the wooing of it,<\/p>\n

    bitter my exile from the land. Up, then, Medea, spare not the secrets<\/p>\n

    of thy art in plotting and devising; on to the danger. Now comes a<\/p>\n

    struggle needing courage. Dost see what thou art suffering? ‘Tis not<\/p>\n

    for thee to be a laughing-stock to the race of Sisyphus by reason<\/p>\n

    of this wedding of Jason, sprung, as thou art, from noble sire, and<\/p>\n

    of the Sun-god’s race. Thou hast cunning; and, more than this, we<\/p>\n

    women, though by nature little apt for virtuous deeds, are most expert<\/p>\n

    to fashion any mischief.<\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)<\/p>\n

    Back to their source the holy rivers turn their tide. Order and the<\/p>\n

    universe are being reversed. ‘Tis men whose counsels are treacherous,<\/p>\n

    whose oath by heaven is no longer sure. Rumour shall bring a change<\/p>\n

    o’er my life, bringing it into good repute. Honour’s dawn is breaking<\/p>\n

    for woman’s sex; no more shall the foul tongue of slander fix upon<\/p>\n

    us.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 1)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    The songs of the poets of old shall cease to make our faithlessness<\/p>\n

    their theme. Phoebus, lord of minstrelsy, hath not implanted in our<\/p>\n

    mind the gift of heavenly song, else had I sung an answering strain<\/p>\n

    to the race of males, for time’s long chapter affords many a theme<\/p>\n

    on their sex as well as ours.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (strophe 2)<\/p>\n

    With mind distraught didst thou thy father’s house desert on thy<\/p>\n

    voyage betwixt ocean’s twin rocks, and on a foreign strand thou dwellest<\/p>\n

    thy bed left husbandless, poor lady, and thou an exile from the land,<\/p>\n

    dishonoured, persecuted.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 2)<\/p>\n

    Gone is the grace that oaths once had. Through all the breadth of<\/p>\n

    Hellas honour is found no more; to heaven hath it sped away. For thee<\/p>\n

    no father’s house is open, woe is thee! to be a haven from the troublous<\/p>\n

    storm, while o’er thy home is set another queen, the bride that is<\/p>\n

    preferred to thee.\u00a0 (As the CHORUS finishes its song, JASON enters,<\/p>\n

    alone. MEDEA comes out of the house.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON It is not now I first remark, but oft ere this, how unruly<\/p>\n

    a pest is a harsh temper. For instance, thou, hadst thou but patiently<\/p>\n

    endured the will of thy superiors, mightest have remained here in<\/p>\n

    this land and house, but now for thy idle words wilt thou be banished.<\/p>\n

    Thy words are naught to me. Cease not to call Jason basest of men;<\/p>\n

    but for those words thou hast spoken against our rulers, count it<\/p>\n

    all gain that exile is thy only punishment. I ever tried to check<\/p>\n

    the outbursts of the angry monarch, and would have had thee stay,<\/p>\n

    but thou wouldst not forego thy silly rage, always reviling our rulers,<\/p>\n

    and so thou wilt be banished. Yet even after all this I weary not<\/p>\n

    of my goodwill, but am come with thus much forethought, lady, that<\/p>\n

    thou mayst not be destitute nor want for aught, when, with thy sons,<\/p>\n

    thou art cast out. Many an evil doth exile bring in its train with<\/p>\n

    it; for even though thou hatest me, never will I harbour hard thoughts<\/p>\n

    of thee.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Thou craven villain (for that is the only name my tongue can<\/p>\n

    find for thee, a foul reproach on thy unmanliness), comest thou to<\/p>\n

    me, thou, most hated foe of gods, of me, and of all mankind? ‘Tis<\/p>\n

    no proof of courage or hardihood to confront thy friends after injuring<\/p>\n

    them, but that worst of all human diseases-loss of shame. Yet hast<\/p>\n

    thou done well to come; for I shall ease my soul by reviling thee,<\/p>\n

    and thou wilt be vexed at my recital. I will begin at the very beginning.<\/p>\n

    I saved thy life, as every Hellene knows who sailed with thee aboard<\/p>\n

    the good ship Argo, when thou wert sent to tame and yoke fire-breathing<\/p>\n

    bulls, and to sow the deadly tilth. Yea, and I slew the dragon which<\/p>\n

    guarded the golden fleece, keeping sleepless watch o’er it with many<\/p>\n

    a wreathed coil, and I raised for thee a beacon of deliverance. Father<\/p>\n

    and home of my free will I left and came with the to Iolcos, ‘neath<\/p>\n

    Pelion’s hills, for my love was stronger than my prudence. Next I<\/p>\n

    caused the death of Pelias by a doom most grievous, even by his own<\/p>\n

    children’s hand, beguiling them of all their fear. All this have I<\/p>\n

    done for thee, thou traitor! and thou hast cast me over, taking to<\/p>\n

    thyself another wife, though children have been born to us. Hadst<\/p>\n

    thou been childless still, I could have pardoned thy desire for this<\/p>\n

    new union. Gone is now the trust I put in oaths. I cannot even understand<\/p>\n

    whether thou thinkest that the gods of old no longer rule, or that<\/p>\n

    fresh decrees are now in vogue amongst mankind, for thy conscience<\/p>\n

    must tell thee thou hast not kept faith with me. Ah! poor right hand,<\/p>\n

    which thou didst often grasp. These knees thou didst embrace! All<\/p>\n

    in vain, I suffered a traitor to touch me! How short of my hopes I<\/p>\n

    am fallen! But come, I will deal with the as though thou wert my friend.<\/p>\n

    Yet what kindness can I expect from one so base as thee? But yet I<\/p>\n

    will do it, for my questioning will show thee yet more base. Whither<\/p>\n

    can I turn me now? to my father’s house, to my own country, which<\/p>\n

    I for thee deserted to come hither? to the hapless daughters of Pelias?<\/p>\n

    A glad welcome, I trow, would they give me in their home, whose father’s<\/p>\n

    death I compassed! My case stands even thus: I am become the bitter<\/p>\n

    foe to those of mine own home, and those whom I need ne’er have wronged<\/p>\n

    I have made mine enemies to pleasure thee. Wherefore to reward me<\/p>\n

    for this thou hast made me doubly blest in the eyes of many wife in<\/p>\n

    Hellas; and in thee I own a peerless, trusty lord. O woe is me, if<\/p>\n

    indeed I am to be cast forth an exile from the land, without one friend;<\/p>\n

    one lone woman with her babes forlorn! Yea, a fine reproach to thee<\/p>\n

    in thy bridal hour, that thy children and the wife who saved thy life<\/p>\n

    are beggars and vagabonds! O Zeus! why hast thou granted unto man<\/p>\n

    clear signs to know the sham in gold, while on man’s brow no brand<\/p>\n

    is stamped whereby to gauge the villain’s heart?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER OF THE CHORUS There is a something terrible and past all cure,<\/p>\n

    when quarrels arise ‘twixt those who are near and dear.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Needs must I now, it seems, turn orator, and, like a good helmsman<\/p>\n

    on a ship with close-reefed sails, weather that wearisome tongue of<\/p>\n

    thine. Now, I believe, since thou wilt exaggerate thy favours, that<\/p>\n

    to Cypri, alone of gods or men I owe the safety of my voyage. Thou<\/p>\n

    hast a subtle wit enough; yet were it a hateful thing for me to say<\/p>\n

    that the Love-god constrained thee by his resistless shaft to save<\/p>\n

    my life. However, I will not reckon this too nicely; ’twas kindly<\/p>\n

    done, however thou didst serve me. Yet for my safety hast thou received<\/p>\n

    more than ever thou gavest, as I will show. First, thou dwellest in<\/p>\n

    Hellas, instead of thy barbarian land, and hast learnt what justice<\/p>\n

    means and how to live by law, not by the dictates of brute force;<\/p>\n

    and all the Hellenes recognize thy cleverness, and thou hast gained<\/p>\n

    a name; whereas, if thou hadst dwelt upon the confines of the earth,<\/p>\n

    no tongue had mentioned thee. Give me no gold within my halls, nor<\/p>\n

    skill to sing a fairer strain than ever Orpheus sang, unless there-with<\/p>\n

    my fame be spread abroad! So much I say to thee about my own toils,<\/p>\n

    for ’twas thou didst challenge me to this retort. As for the taunts<\/p>\n

    thou urgest against my marriage with the princess, I will prove to<\/p>\n

    thee, first, that I am prudent herein, next chastened in my love,<\/p>\n

    and last powerful friend to thee and to thy sons; only hold thy peace.<\/p>\n

    Since I have here withdrawn from Iolcos with many a hopeless trouble<\/p>\n

    at my back, what happier device could I, an exile, frame than marriage<\/p>\n

    with the daughter of the king? ‘Tis not because I loathe thee for<\/p>\n

    my wife-the thought that rankles in thy heart; ’tis not because I<\/p>\n

    am smitten with desire for a new bride, nor yet that I am eager to<\/p>\n

    vie with others in begetting many children, for those we have are<\/p>\n

    quite enough, and I do not complain. Nay, ’tis that we-and this is<\/p>\n

    most important-may dwell in comfort, instead of suffering want\u00a0 (for<\/p>\n

    well I know that every whilom friend avoids the poor)\u00a0 , and that<\/p>\n

    I might rear my sons as doth befit my house; further, that I might<\/p>\n

    be the father of brothers for the children thou hast borne, and raise<\/p>\n

    these to the same high rank, uniting the family in one,-to my lasting<\/p>\n

    bliss. Thou, indeed, hast no need of more children, but me it profits<\/p>\n

    to help my present family by that which is to be. Have I miscarried<\/p>\n

    here? Not even thou wouldest say so unless a rival’s charms rankled<\/p>\n

    in thy bosom. No, but you women have such strange ideas, that you<\/p>\n

    think all is well so long as your married life runs smooth; but if<\/p>\n

    some mischance occur to ruffle your love, all that was good and lovely<\/p>\n

    erst you reckon as your foes. Yea, men should have begotten children<\/p>\n

    from some other source, no female race existing; thus would no evil<\/p>\n

    ever have fallen on mankind.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER This speech, O Jason, hast thou with specious art arranged;<\/p>\n

    but yet I think-albeit in speaking I am indiscreet-that thou hast<\/p>\n

    sinned in thy betrayal of thy wife.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA No doubt I differ from the mass of men on many points; for,<\/p>\n

    to my mind, whoso hath skill to fence with words in an unjust cause,<\/p>\n

    incurs the heaviest penalty; for such an one, confident that he can<\/p>\n

    cast a decent veil of words o’er his injustice, dares to practise<\/p>\n

    it; and yet he is not so very clever after all. So do not thou put<\/p>\n

    forth thy specious pleas and clever words to me now, for one word<\/p>\n

    of mine will lay thee low. Hadst thou not had a villain’s heart, thou<\/p>\n

    shouldst have gained my consent, then made this match, instead of<\/p>\n

    hiding it from those who loved thee.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Thou wouldest have lent me ready aid, no doubt, in this proposal,<\/p>\n

    if had told thee of my marriage, seeing that not even now canst thou<\/p>\n

    restrain thy soul’s hot fury.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA This was not what restrained thee; but thine eye was turned<\/p>\n

    towards old age, and a foreign wife began to appear a shame to thee.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Be well assured of this: ’twas not for the woman’s sake I wedded<\/p>\n

    the king’s daughter, my present wife; but, as I have already told<\/p>\n

    thee, I wished to insure thy safety and to be the father of royal<\/p>\n

    sons bound by blood to my own children-a bulwark to our house.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA May that prosperity, whose end is woe, ne’er be mine, nor such<\/p>\n

    wealth as would ever sting my heart!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Change that prayer as I will teach thee, and thou wilt show<\/p>\n

    more wisdom. Never let happiness appear in sorrow’s guise, nor, when<\/p>\n

    thy fortune smiles, pretend she frowns!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Mock on; thou hast a place of refuge; I am alone, an exile<\/p>\n

    soon to be.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Thy own free choice was this; blame no one else.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA What did I do? Marry, then betray thee?<\/p>\n

    JASON Against the king thou didst invoke an impious curse.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA On thy house too maybe I bring the curse.<\/p>\n

    JASON Know this, I will no further dispute this point with thee.<\/p>\n

    But, if thou wilt of my fortune somewhat take for the children or<\/p>\n

    thyself to help thy exile, say on; for I am ready to grant it with<\/p>\n

    ungrudging hand, yea and to bend tokens to my friends elsewhere who<\/p>\n

    shall treat thee well. If thou refuse this offer, thou wilt do a foolish<\/p>\n

    deed, but if thou cease from anger the greater will be thy gain.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA I will have naught to do with friends of thine, naught will<\/p>\n

    I receive of thee, offer it not to me; a villain’s gifts can bring<\/p>\n

    no blessing.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON At least I call the gods to witness, that I am ready in all<\/p>\n

    things to serve thee and thy children, but thou dost scorn my favours<\/p>\n

    and thrustest thy friends stubbornly away; wherefore thy lot will<\/p>\n

    be more bitter still.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Away! By love for thy young bride entrapped, too long thou<\/p>\n

    lingerest outside her chamber; go wed, for, if God will, thou shalt<\/p>\n

    have such a marriage as thou wouldst fain refuse.\u00a0 (JASON goes out.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    When in excess and past all limits Love doth come, he brings not<\/p>\n

    glory or repute to man; but if the Cyprian queen in moderate might<\/p>\n

    approach, no goddess is so full of charm as she. Never, O never, lady<\/p>\n

    mine, discharge at me from thy golden bow a shaft invincible, in passion’s<\/p>\n

    venom dipped.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 1)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    On me may chastity, heaven’s fairest gift, look with a favouring<\/p>\n

    eye; never may Cypris, goddess dread, fasten on me a temper to dispute,<\/p>\n

    or restless jealousy, smiting my soul with mad desire for unlawful<\/p>\n

    love, but may she hallow peaceful married life and shrewdly decide<\/p>\n

    whom each of us shall wed.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (strophe 2)<\/p>\n

    O my country, O my own dear home! God grant I may never be an outcast<\/p>\n

    from my city, leading that cruel helpless life, whose every day is<\/p>\n

    misery. Ere that may I this life complete and yield to death, ay,<\/p>\n

    death; for there is no misery that doth surpass the loss of fatherland.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 2)<\/p>\n

    I have seen with mine eyes, nor from the lips of others have I the<\/p>\n

    lesson learnt; no city, not one friend doth pity thee in this thine<\/p>\n

    awful woe. May he perish and find no favour, whoso hath not in him<\/p>\n

    honour for his friends, freely unlocking his heart to them. Never<\/p>\n

    shall he be friend of mine.\u00a0 (MEDEA has been seated in despair on<\/p>\n

    her door-step during the choral song. AEGEUS and his attendants enter.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS All hail, Medea! no man knoweth fairer prelude to the greeting<\/p>\n

    of friends than this.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA All hail to thee likewise, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion. Whence<\/p>\n

    comest thou to this land?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS From Phoebus’ ancient oracle.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA What took thee on thy travels to the prophetic centre of the<\/p>\n

    earth?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS The wish to ask how I might raise up seed unto myself.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Pray tell me, hast thou till now dragged on a childless life?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS I have no child owing to the visitation of some god.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Hast thou a wife, or hast thou never known the married state?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS I have a wife joined to me in wedlock’s bond.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA What said Phoebus to thee as to children?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Words too subtle for man to comprehend.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Surely I may learn the god’s answer?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Most assuredly, for it is just thy subtle wit it needs.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA What said the god? speak, if I may hear it.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS He bade me “not loose the wineskin’s pendent neck.”<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Till when? what must thou do first, what country visit?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Till I to my native home return.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA What object hast thou in sailing to this land?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS O’er Troezen’s realm is Pittheus king.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Pelops’ son, a man devout they say.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS To him I fain would impart the oracle of the god.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA The man is shrewd and versed in such-like lore.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Aye, and to me the dearest of all my warrior friends.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Good luck to thee! success to all thy wishes!<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS But why that downcast eye, that wasted cheek?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA O Aegeus, my husband has proved most evil.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS What meanest thou? explain to me clearly the cause of thy<\/p>\n

    despondency.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Jason is wronging me though I have given him no cause.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS What hath he done? tell me more clearly.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA He is taking another wife to succeed me as mistress of his<\/p>\n

    house.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Can he have brought himself to such a dastard deed?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Be assured thereof; I, whom he loved of yore, am in dishonour<\/p>\n

    now.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Hath he found a new love? or does he loathe thy bed?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Much in love is he! A traitor to his friend is he become.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Enough! if he is a villain as thou sayest.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA The alliance he is so much enamoured of is with a princess.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Who gives his daughter to him? go on, I pray.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Creon, who is lord of this land of Corinth.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Lady, I can well pardon thy grief.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA I am undone, and more than that, am banished from the land.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS By whom? fresh woe this word of thine unfolds.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Creon drives me forth in exile from Corinth.<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Doth Jason allow it? This too I blame him for.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Not in words, but he will not stand out against it. O, I implore<\/p>\n

    thee by this beard and by thy knees, in suppliant posture, pity, O<\/p>\n

    pity my sorrows; do not see me cast forth forlorn, but receive me<\/p>\n

    in thy country, to a seat within thy halls. So may thy wish by heaven’s<\/p>\n

    grace be crowned with a full harvest of offspring, and may thy life<\/p>\n

    close in happiness! Thou knowest not the rare good luck thou findest<\/p>\n

    here, for I will make thy childlessness to cease and cause thee to<\/p>\n

    beget fair issue; so potent are the spells I know.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Lady, on many grounds I am most fain to grant thee this thy<\/p>\n

    boon, first for the gods’ sake, next for the children whom thou dost<\/p>\n

    promise I shall beget; for in respect of this I am completely lost.<\/p>\n

    ‘Tis thus with me; if e’er thou reach my land, I will attempt to champion<\/p>\n

    thee as I am bound to do. Only one warning I do give thee first, lady;<\/p>\n

    I will not from this land bear thee away, yet if of thyself thou reach<\/p>\n

    my halls, there shalt thou bide in safety and I will never yield thee<\/p>\n

    up to any man. But from this land escape without my aid, for I have<\/p>\n

    no wish to incur the blame of my allies as well.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA It shall be even so; but wouldst thou pledge thy word to this,<\/p>\n

    I should in all be well content with thee.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Surely thou dost trust me? or is there aught that troubles<\/p>\n

    thee?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Thee I trust; but Pelias’ house and Creon are my foes. Wherefore,<\/p>\n

    if thou art bound by an oath, thou wilt not give me up to them when<\/p>\n

    they come to drag me from the land, but, having entered into a compact<\/p>\n

    and sworn by heaven as well, thou wilt become my friend and disregard<\/p>\n

    their overtures. Weak is any aid of mine, whilst they have wealth<\/p>\n

    and a princely house.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Lady, thy words show much foresight, so if this is thy will,<\/p>\n

    I do not, refuse. For I shall feel secure and safe if I have some<\/p>\n

    pretext to offer to thy foes, and thy case too the firmer stands.<\/p>\n

    Now name thy gods.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Swear by the plain of Earth, by Helios my father’s sire, and,<\/p>\n

    in one comprehensive oath, by all the race of gods.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS What shall I swear to do, from what refrain? tell me that.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Swear that thou wilt never of thyself expel me from thy land,<\/p>\n

    nor, whilst life is thine, permit any other, one of my foes maybe,<\/p>\n

    to hale me thence if so he will.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    AEGEUS By Earth I swear, by the Sun-god’s holy beam and by all the<\/p>\n

    host of heaven that I will stand fast to the terms I hear thee make.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA ‘Tis enough. If thou shouldst break this oath, what curse dost<\/p>\n

    thou invoke upon thyself?<\/p>\n

    AEGEUS Whate’er betides the impious.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Go in peace; all is well, and I with what speed I may, will<\/p>\n

    to thy city come, when I have wrought my purpose and obtained my wish.<\/p>\n

    (AEGEUS and his retinue depart.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) May Maia’s princely son go with thee on thy way<\/p>\n

    to bring thee to thy home, and mayest thou attain that on which thy<\/p>\n

    soul is set so firmly, for to my mind thou seemest a generous man,<\/p>\n

    O Aegeus.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA O Zeus, and Justice, child of Zeus, and Sun-god’s light, now<\/p>\n

    will triumph o’er my foes, kind friends; on victory’s road have I<\/p>\n

    set forth; good hope have I of wreaking vengeance on those I hate.<\/p>\n

    For where we were in most distress this stranger hath appeared, to<\/p>\n

    be a haven in my counsels; to him will we make fast the cables of<\/p>\n

    our ship when we come to the town and citadel of Pallas. But now will<\/p>\n

    I explain to thee my plans in full; do not expect to hear a pleasant<\/p>\n

    tale. A servant of mine will I to Jason send and crave an interview;<\/p>\n

    then when he comes I will address him with soft words, say, “this<\/p>\n

    pleases me,” and, “that is well,” even the marriage with the princess,<\/p>\n

    which my treacherous lord is celebrating, and add “it suits us both,<\/p>\n

    ’twas well thought out”; then will I entreat that here my children<\/p>\n

    may abide, not that I mean to leave them in a hostile land for foes<\/p>\n

    to flout, but that I may slay the king’s daughter by guile. For I<\/p>\n

    will send them with gifts in their hands, carrying them unto the bride<\/p>\n

    to save them from banishment, a robe of finest woof and a chaplet<\/p>\n

    of gold. And if these ornaments she take and put them on, miserably<\/p>\n

    shall she die, and likewise everyone who touches her; with such fell<\/p>\n

    poisons will I smear my gifts. And here I quit this theme; but I shudder<\/p>\n

    at the deed I must do next; for I will slay the children I have borne;<\/p>\n

    there is none shall take them from my toils; and when I have utterly<\/p>\n

    confounded Jason’s house I will leave the land, escaping punishment<\/p>\n

    for my dear children’s murder, after my most unholy deed. For I cannot<\/p>\n

    endure the taunts of enemies, kind friends; enough! what gain is life<\/p>\n

    to me? I have no country, home, or refuge left. O, I did wrong, that<\/p>\n

    hour I left my father’s home, persuaded by that Hellene’s words, who<\/p>\n

    now shall pay the penalty, so help me God, Never shall he see again<\/p>\n

    alive the children I bore to him, nor from his new bride shall he<\/p>\n

    beget issue, for she must die a hideous death, slain by my drugs.<\/p>\n

    Let no one deem me a poor weak woman who sits with folded hands, but<\/p>\n

    of another mould, dangerous to foes and well-disposed to friends;<\/p>\n

    for they win the fairest fame who live then, life like me.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER OF THE CHORUS Since thou hast imparted this design to me,<\/p>\n

    I bid thee hold thy hand, both from a wish to serve thee and because<\/p>\n

    I would uphold the laws men make.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA It cannot but be so; thy words I pardon since thou art not<\/p>\n

    in the same sorry plight that I am.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER O lady, wilt thou steel thyself to slay thy children twain?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA I will, for that will stab my husband to the heart.<\/p>\n

    LEADER It may, but thou wilt be the saddest wife alive.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA No matter; wasted is every word that comes ‘twixt now and then.<\/p>\n

    Ho!\u00a0 (The NURSE enters in answer to her call.)\u00a0 Thou, go call me Jason<\/p>\n

    hither, for thee I do employ on every mission of trust. No word divulge<\/p>\n

    of all my purpose, as thou art to thy mistress loyal and likewise<\/p>\n

    of my sex.\u00a0 (The NURSE goes out.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    Sons of Erechtheus, heroes happy from of yore, children of the blessed<\/p>\n

    gods, fed on wisdom’s glorious food in a holy land ne’er pillaged<\/p>\n

    by its foes, ye who move with sprightly step through a climate ever<\/p>\n

    bright and clear, where, as legend tells, the Muses nine, Pieria’s<\/p>\n

    holy maids, were brought to birth by Harmonia with the golden hair.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 1)<\/p>\n

    And poets sing how Cypris drawing water from the streams of fair-flowing<\/p>\n

    Cephissus breathes o’er the land a gentle breeze of balmy winds, and<\/p>\n

    ever as she crowns her tresses with a garland of sweet rose-buds sends<\/p>\n

    forth the Loves to sit by wisdom’s side, to take part in every excellence.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (strophe 2)<\/p>\n

    How then shall the city of sacred streams, the land that welcomes<\/p>\n

    those it loves, receive thee, the murderess of thy children, thee<\/p>\n

    whose presence with others is a pollution? ‘Think on the murder of<\/p>\n

    thy children, consider the bloody deed thou takest on thee. Nay, by<\/p>\n

    thy knees we, one and all, implore thee, slay not thy babes.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 2)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    Where shall hand or heart find hardihood enough in wreaking such<\/p>\n

    a fearsome deed upon thy sons? How wilt thou look upon thy babes,<\/p>\n

    and still without a tear retain thy bloody purpose? Thou canst not,<\/p>\n

    when they fall at thy feet for mercy, steel thy heart and dip in their<\/p>\n

    blood thy hand.\u00a0 (JASON enters.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON I am come at thy bidding, for e’en though thy hate for me is<\/p>\n

    bitter thou shalt not fail in this small boon, but I will hear what<\/p>\n

    new request thou hast to make of me, lady.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Jason, I crave thy pardon for the words I spoke, and well thou<\/p>\n

    mayest brook my burst of passion, for ere now we twain have shared<\/p>\n

    much love. For I have reasoned with my soul and railed upon me thus,<\/p>\n

    “Ah! poor heart! why am I thus distraught, why so angered ‘gainst<\/p>\n

    all good advice, why have I come to hate the rulers of the land, my<\/p>\n

    husband too, who does the best for me he can, in wedding with a princess<\/p>\n

    and rearing for my children noble brothers? Shall I not cease to fret?<\/p>\n

    What possesses me, when heaven its best doth offer? Have I not my<\/p>\n

    children to consider? do I forget that we are fugitives, in need of<\/p>\n

    friends?” When I had thought all this I saw how foolish I had been,<\/p>\n

    how senselessly enraged. So now do commend thee and think thee most<\/p>\n

    wise in forming this connection for us; but I was mad, I who should<\/p>\n

    have shared in these designs, helped on thy plans, and lent my aid<\/p>\n

    to bring about the match, only too pleased to wait upon thy bride.<\/p>\n

    But what we are, we are, we women, evil I will not say; wherefore<\/p>\n

    thou shouldst not sink to our sorry level nor with our weapons meet<\/p>\n

    our childishness.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    I yield and do confess that I was wrong then, but now have I come<\/p>\n

    to a better mind. Come hither, my children, come, leave the house,<\/p>\n

    step forth, and with me greet and bid farewell to your father, be<\/p>\n

    reconciled from all past bitterness unto your friends, as now your<\/p>\n

    mother is; for we have made a truce and anger is no more.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT<\/p>\n

    comes out of the house with the children.)\u00a0 Take his right hand; ah<\/p>\n

    me! my sad fate! when I reflect, as now, upon the hidden future. O<\/p>\n

    my children, since there awaits you even thus a long, long life, stretch<\/p>\n

    forth the hand to take a fond farewell. Ah me! how new to tears am<\/p>\n

    I, how full of fear! For now that I have at last released me from<\/p>\n

    my quarrel with your father, I let the tear-drops stream adown my<\/p>\n

    tender cheek.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    LEADER OF THE CHORUS From my eyes too bursts forth the copious tear;<\/p>\n

    O, may no greater ill than the present e’er befall!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Lady, I praise this conduct, not that I blame what is past;<\/p>\n

    for it is but natural to the female sex to vent their spleen against<\/p>\n

    a husband when he trafficks in other marriages besides his own. But<\/p>\n

    thy heart is changed to wiser schemes and thou art determined on the<\/p>\n

    better course, late though it be; this is acting like a woman of sober<\/p>\n

    sense. And for you, my sons, hath your father provided with all good<\/p>\n

    heed a sure refuge, by God’s grace; for ye, I trow, shall with your<\/p>\n

    brothers share hereafter the foremost rank in this Corinthian realm.<\/p>\n

    Only grow up, for all the rest your sire and whoso of the gods is<\/p>\n

    kind to us is bringing to pass. May I see you reach man’s full estate,<\/p>\n

    high o’er the heads of those I hate! But thou, lady, why with fresh<\/p>\n

    tears dost thou thine eyelids wet, turning away thy wan cheek, with<\/p>\n

    no welcome for these my happy tidings?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA ‘Tis naught; upon these children my thoughts were turned.<\/p>\n

    JASON Then take heart; for I will see that it is well with them.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA I will do so; nor will I doubt thy word; woman is a weak creature,<\/p>\n

    ever given to tears.<\/p>\n

    JASON Why prithee, unhappy one, dost moan o’er these children?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA I gave them birth; and when thou didst pray long life for them,<\/p>\n

    pity entered into my soul to think that these things must be. But<\/p>\n

    the reason of thy coming hither to speak with me is partly told, the<\/p>\n

    rest will I now mention. Since it is the pleasure of the rulers of<\/p>\n

    the land to banish me, and well I know ’twere best for me to stand<\/p>\n

    not in the way of thee or of the rulers by dwelling here, enemy as<\/p>\n

    I am thought unto their house, forth from this land in exile am I<\/p>\n

    going, but these children,-that they may know thy fostering hand,<\/p>\n

    beg Creon to remit their banishment.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON I doubt whether I can persuade him, yet must I attempt it.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA At least do thou bid thy wife ask her sire this boon, to remit<\/p>\n

    the exile of the children from this land.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON Yea, that will I; and her methinks I shall persuade, since<\/p>\n

    she is woman like the rest.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA I too will aid thee in this task, for by the children’s hand<\/p>\n

    I will send to her gifts that far surpass in beauty, I well know,<\/p>\n

    aught that now is seen ‘mongst men, a robe of finest tissue and a<\/p>\n

    chaplet of chased gold. But one of my attendants must haste and bring<\/p>\n

    the ornaments hither.\u00a0 (A servant goes into the house.)\u00a0 Happy shall<\/p>\n

    she be not once alone but ten thousand-fold, for in thee she wins<\/p>\n

    the noblest soul to share her love, and gets these gifts as well which<\/p>\n

    on a day my father’s sire, the Sun-god, bestowed on his descendants.<\/p>\n

    (The servant returns and hands the gifts to the children.)\u00a0 My children,<\/p>\n

    take in your hands these wedding gifts, and bear them as an offering<\/p>\n

    to the royal maid, the happy bride; for verily the gifts she shall<\/p>\n

    receive are not to be scorned.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    JASON But why so rashly rob thyself of these gifts? Dost think a<\/p>\n

    royal palace wants for robes or gold? Keep them, nor give them to<\/p>\n

    another. For well I know that if my lady hold me in esteem, she will<\/p>\n

    set my price above all wealth.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Say not so; ’tis said that gifts tempt even gods; and o’er<\/p>\n

    men’s minds gold holds more potent sway than countless words. Fortune<\/p>\n

    smiles upon thy bride, and heaven now doth swell her triumph; youth<\/p>\n

    is hers and princely power; yet to save my children from exile I would<\/p>\n

    barter life, not dross alone. Children, when we are come to the rich<\/p>\n

    palace, pray your father’s new bride, my mistress, with suppliant<\/p>\n

    voice to save you from exile, offering her these ornaments the while;<\/p>\n

    for it is most needful that she receive the gifts in her own hand.<\/p>\n

    Now go and linger not; may ye succeed and to your mother bring back<\/p>\n

    the glad tidings she fain would hear\u00a0 (JASON, the ATTENDANT, and the<\/p>\n

    children go out together.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    CHORUS\u00a0 (singing, strophe 1)<\/p>\n

    Gone, gone is every hope I had that the children yet might live;<\/p>\n

    forth to their doom they now proceed. The hapless bride will take,<\/p>\n

    ay, take the golden crown that is to be her ruin; with her own hand<\/p>\n

    will she lift and place upon her golden locks the garniture of death.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 1)<\/p>\n

    Its grace and sheen divine will tempt her to put on the robe and<\/p>\n

    crown of gold, and in that act will she deck herself to be a bride<\/p>\n

    amid the dead. Such is the snare whereinto she will fall, such is<\/p>\n

    the deadly doom that waits the hapless maid, nor shall she from the<\/p>\n

    curse escape.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (strophe 2)<\/p>\n

    And thou, poor wretch, who to thy sorrow art wedding a king’s daughter,<\/p>\n

    little thinkest of the doom thou art bringing on thy children’s life,<\/p>\n

    or of the cruel death that waits thy bride. Woe is thee! how art thou<\/p>\n

    fallen from thy high estate!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    (antistrophe 2)<\/p>\n

    Next do I bewail thy sorrows, O mother hapless in thy children, thou<\/p>\n

    who wilt slay thy babes because thou hast a rival, the babes thy husband<\/p>\n

    hath deserted impiously to join him to another bride.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT<\/p>\n

    enters with the children.)<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Thy children, lady, are from exile freed, and gladly did<\/p>\n

    the royal bride accept thy gifts in her own hands, and so thy children<\/p>\n

    made their peace with her.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ah!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Why art so disquieted in thy prosperous hour? Why turnest<\/p>\n

    thou thy cheek away, and hast no welcome for my glad news?<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ah me!<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT These groans but ill accord with the news I bring.<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ah me! once more I say.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Have I unwittingly announced some evil tidings? Have I<\/p>\n

    erred in thinking my news was good?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Thy news is as it is; I blame thee not.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Then why this downcast eye, these floods of tears?<\/p>\n

    MEDEA Old friend, needs must I weep; for the gods and I with fell<\/p>\n

    intent devised these schemes.<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Be of good cheer; thou too of a surety shalt by thy sons<\/p>\n

    yet be brought home again.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA Ere that shall I bring others to their home, ah! woe is me<\/p>\n

    ATTENDANT Thou art not the only mother from thy children reft. Bear<\/p>\n

    patiently thy troubles as a mortal must.<\/p>\n

     <\/p>\n

    MEDEA I will obey; go thou within the house and make the day’s provision<\/p>\n

    for the children.\u00a0 (The ATTENDANT enters the house. MEDEA turns to<\/p>\n

    the children.)\u00a0 O my babes, my babes, ye have still a city and a home,<\/p>\n

    where far from me and my sad lot you will live your lives, reft of<\/p>\n

    your mother for ever; while I must to another land in banishment,<\/p>\n

    or ever I have had my joy of you, or lived to see you happy, or ever<\/p>\n

    I have graced your marriage couch, your bride, your bridal bower,<\/p>\n

    or lifted high the wedding torch. Ah me! a victim of my own self-will.<\/p>\n

    So it was all in vain I reared you, O my sons; in vain did suffer,<\/p>\n

    racked with anguish, enduring the cruel pangs of childbirth. ‘Fore<\/p>\n

    Heaven I once had hope, poor me! high hope of ye that you would nurse<\/p>\n

    me in my age and deck my corpse with loving hands, a boon we mortals<\/p>\n

    covet; but now is my sweet fancy dead and gone; for I must lose you<\/p>\n

    both and in bitterness and sorrow drag through life. And ye shall<\/p>\n

    never with fond eyes see your mother more for o’er your life there<\/p>\n

    comes a change. Ah me! ah me! why do ye look at me so, my children?<\/p>\n

    why smile that last sweet smile? Ah me! what am I to do? My heart<\/p>\n

    gives way when I behold my children’s laughing eyes. O, I cannot;<\/p>\n

    farewell to all my former schemes; I will take the children from the<\/p>\n

    land, the babes I bore. Why should I wound their sire by wounding<\/p>\n

    them, and get me a twofold measure of sorrow? No, no, I will not do<\/p>\n

      \n
    1. Farewell my scheming! And yet what possesses me? Can I consent<\/li>\n<\/ol>\n

      to let those foes of mine escape from punishment, and incur their<\/p>\n

      mockery? I must face this deed. Out upon my craven heart! to think<\/p>\n

      that I should even have let the soft words escape my soul. Into the<\/p>\n

      house, children!\u00a0 (The children go into the house.)\u00a0 And whoso feels<\/p>\n

      he must not be present at my sacrifice, must see to it himself; I<\/p>\n

      will not spoil my handiwork. Ah! ah! do not, my heart, O do not do<\/p>\n

      this deed! Let the children go, unhappy one, spare the babes! For<\/p>\n

      if they live, they will cheer thee in our exile there. Nay, by the<\/p>\n

      fiends of hell’s abyss, never, never will I hand my children over<\/p>\n

      to their foes to mock and flout. Die they must in any case, and since<\/p>\n

      ’tis so, why I, the mother who bore them, will give the fatal blow.<\/p>\n

      In any case their doom is fixed and there is no escape. Already the<\/p>\n

      crown is on her head, the robe is round her, and she is dying, the<\/p>\n

      royal bride; that do I know full well. But now since I have a piteous<\/p>\n

      path to tread, and yet more piteous still the path I send my children<\/p>\n

      on, fain would I say farewell to them.\u00a0 (The children come out at<\/p>\n

      her call. She takes them in her arms.)\u00a0 O my babes, my babes, let<\/p>\n

      your mother kiss your hands. Ah! hands I love so well, O lips most<\/p>\n

      dear to me! O noble form and features of my children, I wish ye joy,<\/p>\n

      but in that other land, for here your father robs you of your home.<\/p>\n

      O the sweet embrace, the soft young cheek, the fragrant breath! my<\/p>\n

      children! Go, leave me; I cannot bear to longer look upon ye; my sorrow<\/p>\n

      wins the day. At last I understand the awful deed I am to do; but<\/p>\n

      passion, that cause of direst woes to mortal man, hath triumphed o’er<\/p>\n

      my sober thoughts.\u00a0 (She goes into the house with the children.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Oft ere now have I pursued subtler themes and<\/p>\n

      have faced graver issues than woman’s sex should seek to probe; but<\/p>\n

      then e’en we aspire to culture, which dwells with us to teach us wisdom;<\/p>\n

      I say not all; for small is the class amongst women-(one maybe shalt<\/p>\n

      thou find ‘mid many)-that is not incapable of wisdom. And amongst<\/p>\n

      mortals I do assert that they who are wholly without experience and<\/p>\n

      have never had children far surpass in happiness those who are parents.<\/p>\n

      The childless, because they have never proved whether children grow<\/p>\n

      up to be a blessing or curse to men are removed from all share in<\/p>\n

      many troubles; whilst those who have a sweet race of children growing<\/p>\n

      up in their houses do wear away, as I perceive, their whole life through;<\/p>\n

      first with the thought how they may train them up in virtue, next<\/p>\n

      how they shall leave their sons the means to live; and after all this<\/p>\n

      ’tis far from clear whether on good or bad children they bestow their<\/p>\n

      toil. But one last crowning woe for every mortal man now will name;<\/p>\n

      suppose that they have found sufficient means to live, and seen their<\/p>\n

      children grow to man’s estate and walk in virtue’s path, still if<\/p>\n

      fortune so befall, comes Death and bears the children’s bodies off<\/p>\n

      to Hades. Can it be any profit to the gods to heap upon us mortal<\/p>\n

      men beside our other woes this further grief for children lost, a<\/p>\n

      grief surpassing all?\u00a0 (MEDEA comes out of the house.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Kind friends, long have I waited expectantly to know how things<\/p>\n

      would at the palace chance. And lo! I see one of Jason’s servants<\/p>\n

      coming hither, whose hurried gasps for breath proclaim him the bearer<\/p>\n

      of some fresh tidings.\u00a0 (A MESSENGER rushes in.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MESSENGER Fly, fly, Medea! who hast wrought an awful deed, transgressing<\/p>\n

      every law: nor leave behind or sea-borne bark or car that scours the<\/p>\n

      plain.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Why, what hath chanced that calls for such a flight of mine?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MESSENGER The princess is dead, a moment gone, and Creon too, her<\/p>\n

      sire, slain by those drugs of thine.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Tidings most fair are thine! Henceforth shalt thou be ranked<\/p>\n

      amongst my friends and benefactors.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MESSENGER Ha! What? Art sane? Art not distraught, lady, who hearest<\/p>\n

      with joy the outrage to our royal house done, and art not at the horrid<\/p>\n

      tale afraid?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Somewhat have I, too, to say in answer to thy words. Be not<\/p>\n

      so hasty, friend, but tell the manner of their death, for thou wouldst<\/p>\n

      give me double joy, if so they perished miserably.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MESSENGER When the children twain whom thou didst bear came with<\/p>\n

      their father and entered the palace of the bride, right glad were<\/p>\n

      we thralls who had shared thy griefs, for instantly from ear to ear<\/p>\n

      a rumour spread that thou and thy lord had made up your former quarrel.<\/p>\n

      One kissed thy children’s hands, another their golden hair, while<\/p>\n

      I for very joy went with them in person to the women’s chambers. Our<\/p>\n

      mistress, whom now we do revere in thy room, cast a longing glance<\/p>\n

      at Jason, ere she saw thy children twain; but then she veiled her<\/p>\n

      eyes and turned her blanching cheek away, disgusted at their coming;<\/p>\n

      but thy husband tried to check his young bride’s angry humour with<\/p>\n

      these words: “O, be not angered ‘gainst thy friends; cease from wrath<\/p>\n

      and turn once more thy face this way, counting as friends whomso thy<\/p>\n

      husband counts, and accept these gifts, and for my sake crave thy<\/p>\n

      sire to remit these children’s exile.” Soon as she saw the ornaments,<\/p>\n

      no longer she held out, but yielded to her lord in all; and ere the<\/p>\n

      father and his sons were far from the palace gone, she took the broidered<\/p>\n

      robe and put it on, and set the golden crown about her tresses, arranging<\/p>\n

      her hair at her bright mirror, with many a happy smile at her breathless<\/p>\n

      counterfeit. Then rising from her seat she passed across the chamber,<\/p>\n

      tripping lightly on her fair white foot, exulting in the gift, with<\/p>\n

      many a glance at her uplifted ankle. When lo! a scene of awful horror<\/p>\n

      did ensue. In a moment she turned pale, reeled backwards, trembling<\/p>\n

      in every limb, and sinks upon a seat scarce soon enough to save herself<\/p>\n

      from falling to the ground. An aged dame, one of her company, thinking<\/p>\n

      belike it was a fit from Pan or some god sent, raised a cry of prayer,<\/p>\n

      till from her mouth she saw the foam-flakes issue, her eyeballs rolling<\/p>\n

      in their sockets, and all the blood her face desert; then did she<\/p>\n

      raise a loud scream far different from her former cry. Forthwith one<\/p>\n

      handmaid rushed to her father’s house, another to her new bridegroom<\/p>\n

      to tell his bride’s sad fate, and the whole house echoed with their<\/p>\n

      running to and fro. By this time would a quick walker have made the<\/p>\n

      turn in a course of six plethra and reached the goal, when she with<\/p>\n

      one awful shriek awoke, poor sufferer, from her speechless trance<\/p>\n

      and oped her closed eyes, for against her a twofold anguish was warring.<\/p>\n

      The chaplet of gold about her head was sending forth a wondrous stream<\/p>\n

      of ravening flame, while the fine raiment, thy children’s gift, was<\/p>\n

      preying on the hapless maiden’s fair white flesh; and she starts from<\/p>\n

      her seat in a blaze and seeks to fly, shaking her hair and head this<\/p>\n

      way and that, to cast the crown therefrom; but the gold held firm<\/p>\n

      to its fastenings, and the flame, as she shook her locks, blazed forth<\/p>\n

      the more with double fury. Then to the earth she sinks, by the cruel<\/p>\n

      blow o’ercome; past all recognition now save to a father’s eye; for<\/p>\n

      her eyes had lost their tranquil gaze, her face no more its natural<\/p>\n

      look preserved, and from the crown of her head blood and fire in mingled<\/p>\n

      stream ran down; and from her bones the flesh kept peeling off beneath<\/p>\n

      the gnawing of those secret drugs, e’en as when the pine-tree weeps<\/p>\n

      its tears of pitch, a fearsome sight to see. And all were afraid to<\/p>\n

      touch the corpse, for we were warned by what had chanced. Anon came<\/p>\n

      her haples father unto the house, all unwitting of her doom, and stumbles<\/p>\n

      o’er the dead, and loud he cried, and folding his arms about her kissed<\/p>\n

      her, with words like these the while, “O my poor, poor child, which<\/p>\n

      of the gods hath destroyed thee thus foully? Who is robbing me of<\/p>\n

      thee, old as I am and ripe for death? O my child, alas! would I could<\/p>\n

      die with thee!” He ceased his sad lament, and would have raised his<\/p>\n

      aged frame, but found himself held fast by the fine-spun robe as ivy<\/p>\n

      that clings to the branches of the bay, and then ensued a fearful<\/p>\n

      struggle. He strove to rise, but she still held him back; and if ever<\/p>\n

      he pulled with all his might, from off his bones his aged flesh he<\/p>\n

      tore. At last he gave it up, and breathed forth his soul in awful<\/p>\n

      suffering; for he could no longer master the pain. So there they lie,<\/p>\n

      daughter and aged sire, dead side by side, a grievous sight that calls<\/p>\n

      for tears. And as for thee, I leave thee out of my consideration,<\/p>\n

      for thyself must discover a means to escape punishment. Not now for<\/p>\n

      the first time I think this human life a shadow; yea, and without<\/p>\n

      shrinking I will say that they amongst men who pretend to wisdom and<\/p>\n

      expend deep thought on words do incur a serious charge of folly; for<\/p>\n

      amongst mortals no man is happy; wealth may pour in and make one luckier<\/p>\n

      than another, but none can happy be.\u00a0 (The MESSENGER departs.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      LEADER OF THE CHORUS This day the deity, it seems, will mass on Jason,<\/p>\n

      as he well deserves, heavy load of evils. Woe is thee, daughter of<\/p>\n

      Creon We pity thy sad fate, gone as thou art to Hades’ halls as the<\/p>\n

      price of thy marriage with Jason.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA My friends, I am resolved upon the deed; at once will I slay<\/p>\n

      my children and then leave this land, without delaying long enough<\/p>\n

      to hand them over to some more savage hand to butcher. Needs must<\/p>\n

      they die in any case; and since they must, I will slay them-I, the<\/p>\n

      mother that bare them. O heart of mine, steel thyself! Why do I hesitate<\/p>\n

      to do the awful deed that must be done? Come, take the sword, thou<\/p>\n

      wretched hand of mine! Take it, and advance to the post whence starts<\/p>\n

      thy life of sorrow! Away with cowardice! Give not one thought to thy<\/p>\n

      babes, how dear they are or how thou art their mother. This one brief<\/p>\n

      day forget thy children dear, and after that lament; for though thou<\/p>\n

      wilt slay them yet they were thy darlings still, and I am a lady of<\/p>\n

      sorrows.\u00a0 (MEDEA enters the house.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) O earth, O sun whose beam illumines all, look,<\/p>\n

      look upon this lost woman, ere she stretch forth her murderous hand<\/p>\n

      upon her sons for blood; for lo! these are scions of thy own golden<\/p>\n

      seed, and the blood of gods is in danger of being shed by man. O light,<\/p>\n

      from Zeus proceeding, stay her, hold her hand, forth from the house<\/p>\n

      chase this fell bloody fiend by demons led. Vainly wasted were the<\/p>\n

      throes thy children cost thee; vainly hast thou borne, it seems, sweet<\/p>\n

      babes, O thou who hast left behind thee that passage through the blue<\/p>\n

      Symplegades, that strangers justly hate. Ah! hapless one, why doth<\/p>\n

      fierce anger thy soul assail? Why in its place is fell murder growing<\/p>\n

      up? For grievous unto mortal men are pollutions that come of kindred<\/p>\n

      blood poured on the earth, woes to suit each crime hurled from heaven<\/p>\n

      on the murderer’s house.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      FIRST SON\u00a0 (within) Ah, me; what can I do? Whither fly to escape<\/p>\n

      my mother’s blows?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      SECOND SON\u00a0 (within) I know not, sweet brother mine; we are lost.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Didst hear, didst hear the children’s cry? O lady,<\/p>\n

      born to sorrow, victim of an evil fate! Shall I enter the house? For<\/p>\n

      the children’s sake I am resolved to ward off the murder.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      FIRST SON\u00a0 (within) Yea, by heaven I adjure you; help, your aid is<\/p>\n

      needed.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      SECOND SON\u00a0 (within) Even now the toils of the sword are closing<\/p>\n

      round us.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) O hapless mother, surely thou hast a heart of<\/p>\n

      stone or steel to slay the offspring of thy womb by such a murderous<\/p>\n

      doom. Of all the wives of yore I know but one who laid her hand upon<\/p>\n

      her children dear, even Ino, whom the gods did madden in the day that<\/p>\n

      the wife of Zeus drove her wandering from her home. But she, poor<\/p>\n

      sufferer, flung herself into the sea because of the foul murder of<\/p>\n

      her children, leaping o’er the wave-beat cliff, and in her death was<\/p>\n

      she united to her children twain. Can there be any deed of horror<\/p>\n

      left to follow this? Woe for the wooing of women fraught with disaster!<\/p>\n

      What sorrows hast thou caused for men ere now!\u00a0 (JASON and his attendants<\/p>\n

      enter.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Ladies, stationed near this house, pray tell me is the author<\/p>\n

      of these hideous deeds, Medea, still within, or hath she fled from<\/p>\n

      hence? For she must hide beneath the earth or soar on wings towards<\/p>\n

      heaven’s vault, if she would avoid the vengeance of the royal house.<\/p>\n

      Is she so sure she will escape herself unpunished from this house,<\/p>\n

      when she hath slain the rulers of the land? But enough of this! I<\/p>\n

      am forgetting her children. As for her, those whom she hath wronged<\/p>\n

      will do the like by her; but I am come to save the children’s life,<\/p>\n

      lest the victim’s kin visit their wrath on me, in vengeance for the<\/p>\n

      murder foul, wrought by my children’s mother.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      LEADER OF THE CHORUS Unhappy man, thou knowest not the full extent<\/p>\n

      of thy misery, else had thou never said those words.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON How now? Can she want to kill me too?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      LEADER Thy sons are dead; slain by their own mother’s hand.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON O God! what sayest thou? Woman, thou hast sealed my doom.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      LEADER Thy children are no more; be sure of this.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Where slew she them; within the palace or outside?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      LEADER Throw wide the doors and see thy children’s murdered corpses.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Haste, ye slaves, loose the bolts, undo the fastenings, that<\/p>\n

      I may see the sight of twofold woe, my murdered sons and her, whose<\/p>\n

      blood in vengeance I will shed.\u00a0 (MEDEA appears above the house, on<\/p>\n

      a chariot drawn by dragons; the children’s corpses are beside her.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Why shake those doors and attempt to loose their bolts, in<\/p>\n

      quest of the dead and me their murderess? From such toil desist. If<\/p>\n

      thou wouldst aught with me, say on, if so thou wilt; but never shalt<\/p>\n

      thou lay hand on me, so swift the steeds the sun, my father’s sire,<\/p>\n

      to me doth give to save me from the hand of my foes.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Accursed woman! by gods, by me and all mankind abhorred as<\/p>\n

      never woman was, who hadst the heart to stab thy babes, thou their<\/p>\n

      mother, leaving me undone and childless; this hast thou done and still<\/p>\n

      dost gaze upon the sun and earth after this deed most impious. Curses<\/p>\n

      on thee! now perceive what then I missed in the day I brought thee,<\/p>\n

      fraught with doom, from thy home in a barbarian land to dwell in Hellas,<\/p>\n

      traitress to thy sire and to the land that nurtured thee. On me the<\/p>\n

      gods have hurled the curse that dogged thy steps, for thou didst slay<\/p>\n

      thy brother at his hearth ere thou cam’st aboard our fair ship, Argo.<\/p>\n

      Such was the outset of thy life of crime; then didst thou wed with<\/p>\n

      me, and having borne me sons to glut thy passion’s lust, thou now<\/p>\n

      hast slain them. Not one amongst the wives of Hellas e’er had dared<\/p>\n

      this deed; yet before them all I chose thee for my wife, wedding a<\/p>\n

      foe to be my doom, no woman, but a lioness fiercer than Tyrrhene Scylla<\/p>\n

      in nature. But with reproaches heaped thousandfold I cannot wound<\/p>\n

      thee, so brazen is thy nature. Perish, vile sorceress, murderess of<\/p>\n

      thy babes! Whilst I must mourn my luckless fate, for I shall ne’er<\/p>\n

      enjoy my new-found bride, nor shall I have the children, whom I bred<\/p>\n

      and reared, alive to say the last farewell to me; nay, I have lost<\/p>\n

      them.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA To this thy speech I could have made a long reply, but Father<\/p>\n

      Zeus knows well all I have done for thee, and the treatment thou hast<\/p>\n

      given me. Yet thou wert not ordained to scorn my love and lead a life<\/p>\n

      of joy in mockery of me, nor was thy royal bride nor Creon, who gave<\/p>\n

      thee a second wife, to thrust me from this land and rue it not. Wherefore,<\/p>\n

      if thou wilt, call me e’en a lioness, and Scylla, whose home is in<\/p>\n

      the Tyrrhene land; for I in turn have wrung thy heart, as well I might.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Thou, too, art grieved thyself, and sharest in my sorrow.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA Be well assured I am; but it relieves my pain to know thou<\/p>\n

      canst not mock at me.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON O my children, how vile a mother ye have found!<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA My sons, your father’s feeble lust has been your ruin!<\/p>\n

      JASON ‘Twas not my hand, at any rate, that slew them.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA No, but thy foul treatment of me, and thy new marriage.<\/p>\n

      JASON Didst think that marriage cause enough to murder them?<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Dost think a woman counts this a trifling injury?<\/p>\n

      JASON So she be self-restrained; but in thy eyes all is evil.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Thy sons are dead and gone. That will stab thy heart.<\/p>\n

      JASON They live, methinks, to bring a curse upon thy head.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA The gods know, whoso of them began this troublous coil.<\/p>\n

      JASON Indeed, they know that hateful heart of thine.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Thou art as hateful. I am aweary of thy bitter tongue.<\/p>\n

      JASON And I likewise of thine. But parting is easy.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Say how; what am I to do? for I am fain as thou to go.<\/p>\n

      JASON Give up to me those dead, to bury and lament.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA No, never! I will bury them myself, bearing them to Hera’s<\/p>\n

      sacred field, who watches o’er the Cape, that none of their foes may<\/p>\n

      insult them by pulling down their tombs; and in this land of Sisyphus<\/p>\n

      I will ordain hereafter a solemn feast and mystic rites to atone for<\/p>\n

      this impious murder. Myself will now to the land of Erechtheus, to<\/p>\n

      dwell with Aegeus, Pandion’s son. But thou, as well thou mayst, shalt<\/p>\n

      die a caitiff’s death, thy head crushed ‘neath a shattered relic of<\/p>\n

      Argo, when thou hast seen the bitter ending of my marriage.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON The curse of our sons’ avenging spirit and of justice, that<\/p>\n

      calls for blood, be on thee!<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      MEDEA What god or power divine hears thee, breaker of oaths and every<\/p>\n

      law of hospitality?<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON Fie upon thee! cursed witch! child-murderess!<\/p>\n

      MEDEA To thy house! go, bury thy wife.<\/p>\n

      JASON I go, bereft of both my sons.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Thy grief is yet to come; wait till old age is with thee too.<\/p>\n

      JASON O my dear, dear children!<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Dear to their mother, not to thee.<\/p>\n

      JASON And yet thou didst slay them?<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Yea, to vex thy heart.<\/p>\n

      JASON One last fond kiss, ah me! I fain would on their lips imprint.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA Embraces now, and fond farewells for them; but then a cold<\/p>\n

      repulse!<\/p>\n

      JASON By heaven I do adjure thee, let me touch their tender skin.<\/p>\n

      MEDEA No, no! in vain this word has sped its flight.<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      JASON O Zeus, dost hear how I am driven hence; dost mark the treatment<\/p>\n

      I receive from this she-lion, fell murderess of her young? Yet so<\/p>\n

      far as I may and can, I raise for them a dirge, and do adjure the<\/p>\n

      gods to witness how thou hast slain my sons, and wilt not suffer me<\/p>\n

      to embrace or bury their dead bodies. Would I had never begotten them<\/p>\n

      to see thee slay them after all!\u00a0 (The chariot carries MEDEA away.)<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n

      CHORUS\u00a0 (chanting) Many a fate doth Zeus dispense, high on his Olympian<\/p>\n

      throne; oft do the gods bring things to pass beyond man’s expectation;<\/p>\n

      that, which we thought would be, is not fulfilled, while for the unlooked-for<\/p>\n

      god finds out a way; and such hath been the issue of this matter.<\/p>\n

      THE END<\/p>\n

       <\/p>\n\n\t\t\t

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      Candela Citations<\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t
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      Public domain content<\/div>