                                     430 BC
                                     MEDEA
                                  by Euripides
                         translated by E. P. Coleridge
    CHARACTERS IN THE PLAY
  NURSE OF MEDEA
  ATTENDANT ON HER CHILDREN
  MEDEA
  CHORUS OF CORINTHIAN WOMEN
  CREON, King of Corinth
  JASON
  AEGEUS, King of Athens
  MESSENGER
  THE TWO SONS OF JASON AND MEDEA


MEDEA
  MEDEA


          (SCENE:-Before MEDEA's house in Corinth, near the
           palace Of CREON. The NURSE enters from the house.)

  NURSE
    AH! WOULD to Heaven the good ship Argo ne'er had sped its course
to the Colchian land through the misty blue Symplegades, nor ever in
the glens of Pelion the pine been felled to furnish with oars the
chieftain's hands, who went to fetch the golden fleece for Pelias; for
then would my own mistress Medea never have sailed to the turrets of
Iolcos, her soul with love for Jason smitten, nor would she have
beguiled the daughters of Pelias to slay their father and come to live
here in the land of Corinth with her husband and children, where her
exile found favour with the citizens to whose land she had come, and
in all things of her own accord was she at one with Jason, the
greatest safeguard this when wife and husband do agree; but now
their love is all turned to hate, and tenderest ties are weak. For
Jason hath betrayed his own children and my mistress dear for the love
of a royal bride, for he hath wedded the daughter of Creon, lord of
this land. While Medea, his hapless wife, thus scorned, appeals to the
oaths he swore, recalls the strong pledge his right hand gave, and
bids heaven be witness what requital she is finding from Jason. And
here she lies fasting, yielding her body to her grief, wasting away in
tears ever since she learnt that she was wronged by her husband, never
lifting her eye nor raising her face from off the ground; and she
lends as deaf an ear to her friend's warning as if she were a rock
or ocean billow, save when she turns her snow-white neck aside and
softly to herself bemoans her father dear, her country and her home,
which she gave up to come hither with the man who now holds her in
dishonour. She, poor lady, hath by sad experience learnt how good a
thing it is never to quit one's native land. And she hates her
children now and feels no joy at seeing them; I fear she may
contrive some untoward scheme; for her mood is dangerous nor will
she brook her cruel treatment; full well I know her, and I much do
dread that she will plunge the keen sword through their hearts,
stealing without a word into the chamber where their marriage couch is
spread, or else that she will slay the prince and bridegroom too,
and so find some calamity still more grievous than the present; for
dreadful is her wrath; verily the man that doth incur her hate will
have no easy task to raise o'er her a song of triumph. Lo! where her
sons come hither from their childish sports; little they reck of their
mother's woes, for the soul of the young is no friend to sorrow.

             (The ATTENDANT leads in MEDEA'S children.)

  ATTENDANT
    Why dost thou, so long my lady's own handmaid, stand here at the
gate alone, loudly lamenting to thyself the piteous tale? how comes it
that Medea will have thee leave her to herself?
  NURSE
    Old man, attendant on the sons of Jason, our masters' fortunes
when they go awry make good slaves grieve and touch their hearts.
Oh! have come to such a pitch of grief that there stole a yearning
wish upon me to come forth hither and proclaim to heaven and earth
my mistress's hard fate.
  ATTENDANT
    What! has not the poor lady ceased yet from her lamentation?
  NURSE
    Would I were as thou art! the mischief is but now beginning; it
has not reached its climax yet.
  ATTENDANT
    O foolish one, if I may call my mistress such a name; how little
she recks of evils yet more recent!
  NURSE
    What mean'st, old man? grudge not to tell me.
  ATTENDANT
    'Tis naught; I do repent me even of the words I have spoken.
  NURSE
    Nay, by thy beard I conjure thee, hide it not from thy
fellow-slave; will be silent, if need be, on that text.
  ATTENDANT
    I heard one say, pretending not to listen as I approached the
place where our greybeards sit playing draughts near Pirene's sacred
spring, that Creon, the ruler of this land, is bent on driving these
children and their mother from the boundaries of Corinth; but I know
not whether the news is to be relied upon, and would fain it were not.
  NURSE
    What! will Jason brook such treatment of his sons, even though
he be at variance with their mother?
  ATTENDANT
    Old ties give way to new; he bears no longer any love to this
family.
  NURSE
    Undone, it seems, are we, if to old woes fresh ones we add, ere we
have drained the former to the dregs.
  ATTENDANT
    Hold thou thy peace, say not a word of this; 'tis no time for
our mistress to learn hereof.
  NURSE
    O children, do ye hear how your father feels towards you?
Perdition catch him, but no he is my master still; yet is he proved
a very traitor to his nearest and dearest.
  ATTENDANT
    And who 'mongst men is not? Art learning only now, that every
single man cares for himself more than for his neighbour, some from
honest motives, others for mere gain's sake? seeing that to indulge
his passion their father has ceased to love these children.
  NURSE
    Go, children, within the house; all will be well. Do thou keep
them as far away as may be, and bring them not near their mother in
her evil hour. For ere this have I seen her eyeing them savagely, as
though she were minded to do them some hurt, and well I know she
will not cease from her fury till she have pounced on some victim.
At least may she turn her hand against her foes, and not against her
friends.
  MEDEA (chanting within)
    Ah, me! a wretched suffering woman I! O would that I could die!
  NURSE (chanting)
    'Tis as I said, my dear children; wild fancies stir your
mother's heart, wild fury goads her on. Into the house without
delay, come not near her eye, approach her not, beware her savage
mood, the fell tempest of her reckless heart. In, in with what speed
ye may. For 'tis plain she will soon redouble her fury; that cry is
but the herald of the gathering storm-cloud whose lightning soon
will flash; what will her proud restless soul, in the anguish of
despair, be guilty of?

          (The ATTENDANT takes the children into the house.

  MEDEA (chanting within)
    Ah, me! the agony I have suffered, deep enough to call for these
laments! Curse you and your father too, ye children damned, sons of
a doomed mother! Ruin seize the whole family!
  NURSE (chanting)
    Ah me! ah me! the pity of it! Why, pray, do thy children share
their father's crime? Why hatest thou them? Woe is you, poor children,
how do I grieve for you lest ye suffer some outrage! Strange are the
tempers of princes, and maybe because they seldom have to obey, and
mostly lord it over others, change they their moods with difficulty.
'Tis better then to have been trained to live on equal terms. Be it
mine to reach old age, not in proud pomp, but in security!
Moderation wins the day first as a better word for men to use, and
likewise it is far the best course for them to pursue; but greatness
that doth o'erreach itself, brings no blessing to mortal men; but pays
a penalty of greater ruin whenever fortune is wroth with a family.

          (The CHORUS enters. The following lines between
               the NURSE, CHORUS, and MEDEA are sung.)

  CHORUS
    I heard the voice, uplifted loud, of our poor Colchian lady, nor
yet is she quiet; speak, aged dame, for as I stood by the house with
double gates I heard a voice of weeping from within, and I do
grieve, lady, for the sorrows of this house, for it hath won my love.
  NURSE
    'Tis a house no more; all that is passed away long since; a
royal bride keeps Jason at her side, while our mistress pines away
in her bower, finding no comfort for her soul in aught her friends can
say.
  MEDEA (within)
    Oh, oh! Would that Heaven's levin bolt would cleave this head in
twain! What gain is life to me? Woe, woe is me! O, to die and win
release, quitting this loathed existence!
  CHORUS
    Didst hear, O Zeus, thou earth, and thou, O light, the piteous
note of woe the hapless wife is uttering? How shall a yearning for
that insatiate resting-place ever hasten for thee, poor reckless
one, the end that death alone can bring? Never pray for that. And if
thy lord prefers a fresh love, be not angered with him for that;
Zeus will judge 'twixt thee and him herein. Then mourn not for thy
husband's loss too much, nor waste thyself away.
  MEDEA (within)
    Great Themis, and husband of Themis, behold what I am suffering
now, though I did bind that accursed one, my husband, by strong
oaths to me! O, to see him and his bride some day brought to utter
destruction, they and their house with them, for that they presume
to wrong me thus unprovoked. O my father, my country, that I have left
to my shame, after slaying my own brother.
  NURSE
    Do ye hear her words, how loudly she adjures Themis, oft
invoked, and Zeus, whom men regard as keeper of their oaths? On no
mere trifle surely will our mistress spend her rage.
  CHORUS
    Would that she would come forth for us to see, and listen to the
words of counsel we might give, if haply she might lay aside the
fierce fury of her wrath, and her temper stern. Never be my zeal at
any rate denied my friends! But go thou and bring her hither outside
the house, and tell her this our friendly thought; haste thee ere
she do some mischief to those inside the house, for this sorrow of
hers is mounting high.
  NURSE
    This will I do; but I doubt whether I shall persuade my
mistress; still willingly will I undertake this trouble for you;
albeit, she glares upon her servants with the look of a lioness with
cubs, whenso anyone draws nigh to speak to her. Wert thou to call
the men of old time rude uncultured boors thou wouldst not err, seeing
that they devised their hymns for festive occasions, for banquets, and
to grace the board, a pleasure to catch the ear, shed o'er our life,
but no man hath found a way to allay hated grief by music and the
minstrel's varied strain, whence arise slaughters and fell strokes
of fate to o'erthrow the homes of men. And yet this were surely a
gain, to heal men's wounds by music's spell, but why tune they their
idle song where rich banquets are spread? For of itself doth the
rich banquet, set before them, afford to men delight.
  CHORUS
    I heard a bitter cry of lamentation! loudly, bitterly she calls on
the traitor of her marriage bed, her perfidious spouse; by grievous
wrongs oppressed she invokes Themis, bride of Zeus, witness of
oaths, who brought her unto Hellas, the land that fronts the strand of
Asia, o'er the sea by night through ocean's boundless gate.

    (AS the CHORUS finishes its song, MEDEA enters from the house.)

  MEDEA
    From the house I have come forth, Corinthian ladies, for fear lest
you be blaming me; for well I know that amongst men many by showing
pride have gotten them an ill name and a reputation for
indifference, both those who shun men's gaze and those who move amid
the stranger crowd, and likewise they who choose a quiet walk in life.
For there is no just discernment in the eyes of men, for they, or ever
they have surely learnt their neighbour's heart, loathe him at first
sight, though never wronged by him; and so a stranger most of all
should adopt a city's views; nor do I commend that citizen, who, in
the stubbornness of his heart, from churlishness resents the city's
will.
    But on me hath fallen this unforeseen disaster, and sapped my
life; ruined I am, and long to resign the boon of existence, kind
friends, and die. For he who was all the world to me, as well thou
knowest, hath turned out the worst of men, my own husband. Of all
things that have life and sense we women are the most hapless
creatures; first must we buy a husband at a great price, and o'er
ourselves a tyrant set which is an evil worse than the first; and
herein lies the most important issue, whether our choice be good or
bad. For divorce is not honourable to women, nor can we disown our
lords. Next must the wife, coming as she does to ways and customs new,
since she hath not learnt the lesson in her home, have a diviner's eye
to see how best to treat the partner of her life. If haply we
perform these tasks with thoroughness and tact, and the husband live
with us, without resenting the yoke, our life is a happy one; if
not, 'twere best to die. But when a man is vexed with what he finds
indoors, he goeth forth and rids his soul of its disgust, betaking him
to some friend or comrade of like age; whilst we must needs regard his
single self.
    And yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the
wars, with their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand
in battle array three times o'er, than once give birth. But enough!
this language suits not thee as it does me; thou hast a city here, a
father's house, some joy in life, and friends to share thy thoughts,
but I am destitute, without a city, and therefore scorned by my
husband, a captive I from a foreign shore, with no mother, brother, or
kinsman in whom to find a new haven of refuge from this calamity.
Wherefore this one boon and only this I wish to win from thee,-thy
silence, if haply I can some way or means devise to avenge me on my
husband for this cruel treatment, and on the man who gave to him his
daughter, and on her who is his wife. For though woman be timorous
enough in all else, and as regards courage, a coward at the mere sight
of steel, yet in the moment she finds her honour wronged, no heart
is filled with deadlier thoughts than hers.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    This will I do; for thou wilt be taking a just vengeance on thy
husband, Medea. That thou shouldst mourn thy lot surprises me not. But
lo! I see Creon, king of this land coming hither, to announce some new
resolve.
                                    (CREON enters, with his retinue.)
  CREON
    Hark thee, Medea, I bid thee take those sullen looks and angry
thoughts against thy husband forth from this land in exile, and with
thee take both thy children and that without delay, for I am judge
in this sentence, and I will not return unto my house till I banish
thee beyond the borders of the land.
  MEDEA
    Ah, me! now is utter destruction come upon me, unhappy that I
am! For my enemies are bearing down on me full sail, nor have I any
landing-place to come at in my trouble. Yet for all my wretched plight
I will ask thee, Creon, wherefore dost thou drive me from the land?
  CREON
    I fear thee,-no longer need I veil my dread 'neath words,-lest
thou devise against my child some cureless ill. Many things contribute
to this fear of mine; thou art a witch by nature, expert in
countless sorceries, and thou art chafing for the loss of thy
husband's affection. I hear, too, so they tell me, that thou dost
threaten the father of the bride, her husband, and herself with some
mischief; wherefore I will take precautions ere our troubles come. For
'tis better for me to incur thy hatred now, lady, than to soften my
heart and bitterly repent it hereafter.
  MEDEA
    Alas! this is not now the first time, but oft before, O Creon,
hath my reputation injured me and caused sore mischief. Wherefore
whoso is wise in his generation ought never to have his children
taught to be too clever; for besides the reputation they get for
idleness, they purchase bitter odium from the citizens. For if thou
shouldst import new learning amongst dullards, thou wilt be thought
a useless trifler, void of knowledge; while if thy fame in the city
o'ertops that of the pretenders to cunning knowledge, thou wilt win
their dislike. I too myself share in this ill-luck. Some think me
clever and hate me, others say I am too reserved, and some the very
reverse; others find me hard to please and not so very clever after
all. Be that as it may, thou dost fear me lest I bring on thee
something to mar thy harmony. Fear me not, Creon, my position scarce
is such that should seek to quarrel with princes. Why should I, for
how hast thou injured me? Thou hast betrothed thy daughter where thy
fancy prompted thee. No, 'tis my husband I hate, though I doubt not
thou hast acted wisely herein. And now I grudge not thy prosperity;
betroth thy child, good luck to thee, but let me abide in this land,
for though I have been wronged I will be still and yield to my
superiors.
  CREON
    Thy words are soft to hear, but much I dread lest thou art
devising some mischief in thy heart, and less than ever do I trust
thee now; for cunning woman, and man likewise, is easier to guard
against when quick-tempered than when taciturn. Nay, begone at once!
speak me no speeches, for this is decreed, nor hast thou any art
whereby thou shalt abide amongst us, since thou hatest me.
  MEDEA
    O, say not so! by thy knees and by thy daughter newlywed, I do
implore!
  CREON
    Thou wastest words; thou wilt never persuade me.
  MEDEA
    What, wilt thou banish me, and to my prayers no pity yield?
  CREON
    I will, for I love not thee above my own family.
  MEDEA
    O my country! what fond memories I have of thee in this hour!
  CREON
    Yea, for I myself love my city best of all things save my
children.
  MEDEA
    Ah me! ah me! to mortal man how dread a scourge is love!
  CREON
    That, I deem, is according to the turn our fortunes take.
  MEDEA
    O Zeus! let not the author of these my troubles escape thee.
  CREON
    Begone, thou silly woman, and free me from my toil.
  MEDEA
    The toil is mine, no lack of it.
  CREON
    Soon wilt thou be thrust out forcibly by the hand of servants.
  MEDEA
    Not that, not that, I do entreat thee, Creon
  CREON
    Thou wilt cause disturbance yet, it seems.
  MEDEA
    I will begone; I ask thee not this boon to grant.
  CREON
    Why then this violence? why dost thou not depart?
  MEDEA
    Suffer me to abide this single day and devise some plan for the
manner of my exile, and means of living for my children, since their
father cares not to provide his babes therewith. Then pity them;
thou too hast children of thine own; thou needs must have a kindly
heart. For my own lot I care naught, though I an exile am, but for
those babes I weep, that they should learn what sorrow means.
  CREON
    Mine is a nature anything but harsh; full oft by showing pity have
suffered shipwreck; and now albeit I clearly see my error, yet shalt
thou gain this request, lady; but I do forewarn thee, if tomorrow's
rising sun shall find thee and thy children within the borders of this
land, thou diest; my word is spoken and it will not lie. So now, if
abide thou must, stay this one day only, for in it thou canst not do
any of the fearful deeds I dread.
                                      (CREON and his retinue go out.)
  CHORUS (chanting)
    Ah! poor lady, woe is thee! Alas, for thy sorrows! Whither wilt
thou turn? What protection, what home or country to save thee from thy
troubles wilt thou find? O Medea, in what a hopeless sea of misery
heaven hath plunged thee!
  MEDEA
    On all sides sorrow pens me in. Who shall gainsay this? But all is
not yet lost! think not so. Still are there troubles in store for
the new bride, and for her bridegroom no light toil. Dost think I
would ever have fawned on yonder man, unless to gain some end or
form some scheme? Nay, would not so much as have spoken to him or
touched him with my hand. But he has in folly so far stepped in
that, though he might have checked my plot by banishing me from the
land, he hath allowed me to abide this day, in which I will lay low in
death three of my enemies-a father and his daughter and my husband
too. Now, though I have many ways to compass their death, I am not
sure, friends, which I am to try first. Shall I set fire to the bridal
mansion, or plunge the whetted sword through their hearts, softly
stealing into the chamber where their couch is spread? One thing
stands in my way. If I am caught making my way into the chamber,
intent on my design, I shall be put to death and cause my foes to
mock, 'Twere best to take the shortest way-the way we women are most
skilled in-by poison to destroy them. Well, suppose them dead; what
city will receive me? What friendly host will give me a shelter in
his land, a home secure, and save my soul alive? None. So I will
wait yet a little while in case some tower of defence rise up for
me; then will I proceed to this bloody deed in crafty silence; but
if some unexpected mischance drive me forth, I will with mine own hand
seize the sword, e'en though I die for it, and slay them, and go forth
on my bold path of daring. By that dread queen whom I revere before
all others and have chosen to share my task, by Hecate who dwells
within my inmost chamber, not one of them shall wound my heart and rue
it not. Bitter and sad will I make their marriage for them; bitter
shall be the wooing of it, bitter my exile from the land. Up, then,
Medea, spare not the secrets of thy art in plotting and devising; on
to the danger. Now comes a struggle needing courage. Dost see what
thou art suffering? 'Tis not for thee to be a laughing-stock to the
race of Sisyphus by reason of this wedding of Jason, sprung, as thou
art, from noble sire, and of the Sun-god's race. Thou hast cunning;
and, more than this, we women, though by nature little apt for
virtuous deeds, are most expert to fashion any mischief.

  CHORUS (singing)

                                                            strophe 1

    Back to their source the holy rivers turn their tide. Order and
the universe are being reversed. 'Tis men whose counsels are
treacherous, whose oath by heaven is no longer sure. Rumour shall
bring a change o'er my life, bringing it into good repute. Honour's
dawn is breaking for woman's sex; no more shall the foul tongue of
slander fix upon us.

                                                        antistrophe 1

    The songs of the poets of old shall cease to make our
faithlessness their theme. Phoebus, lord of minstrelsy, hath not
implanted in our mind the gift of heavenly song, else had I sung an
answering strain to the race of males, for time's long chapter affords
many a theme on their sex as well as ours.

                                                            strophe 2

    With mind distraught didst thou thy father's house desert on thy
voyage betwixt ocean's twin rocks, and on a foreign strand thou
dwellest thy bed left husbandless, poor lady, and thou an exile from
the land, dishonoured, persecuted.

                                                        antistrophe 2

    Gone is the grace that oaths once had. Through all the breadth
of Hellas honour is found no more; to heaven hath it sped away. For
thee no father's house is open, woe is thee! to be a haven from the
troublous storm, while o'er thy home is set another queen, the bride
that is preferred to thee.

          (As the CHORUS finishes its song, JASON enters,
               alone. MEDEA comes out of the house.)

  JASON
    It is not now I first remark, but oft ere this, how unruly a
pest is a harsh temper. For instance, thou, hadst thou but patiently
endured the will of thy superiors, mightest have remained here in this
land and house, but now for thy idle words wilt thou be banished.
Thy words are naught to me. Cease not to call Jason basest of men; but
for those words thou hast spoken against our rulers, count it all gain
that exile is thy only punishment. I ever tried to check the outbursts
of the angry monarch, and would have had thee stay, but thou wouldst
not forego thy silly rage, always reviling our rulers, and so thou
wilt be banished. Yet even after all this I weary not of my
goodwill, but am come with thus much forethought, lady, that thou
mayst not be destitute nor want for aught, when, with thy sons, thou
art cast out. Many an evil doth exile bring in its train with it;
for even though thou hatest me, never will I harbour hard thoughts
of thee.
  MEDEA
    Thou craven villain (for that is the only name my tongue can
find for thee, a foul reproach on thy unmanliness), comest thou to me,
thou, most hated foe of gods, of me, and of all mankind? 'Tis no proof
of courage or hardihood to confront thy friends after injuring them,
but that worst of all human diseases-loss of shame. Yet hast thou done
well to come; for I shall ease my soul by reviling thee, and thou wilt
be vexed at my recital. I will begin at the very beginning. I saved
thy life, as every Hellene knows who sailed with thee aboard the
good ship Argo, when thou wert sent to tame and yoke fire-breathing
bulls, and to sow the deadly tilth. Yea, and I slew the dragon which
guarded the golden fleece, keeping sleepless watch o'er it with many a
wreathed coil, and I raised for thee a beacon of deliverance. Father
and home of my free will I left and came with the to Iolcos, 'neath
Pelion's hills, for my love was stronger than my prudence. Next I
caused the death of Pelias by a doom most grievous, even by his own
children's hand, beguiling them of all their fear. All this have I
done for thee, thou traitor! and thou hast cast me over, taking to
thyself another wife, though children have been born to us. Hadst thou
been childless still, I could have pardoned thy desire for this new
union. Gone is now the trust I put in oaths. I cannot even
understand whether thou thinkest that the gods of old no longer
rule, or that fresh decrees are now in vogue amongst mankind, for
thy conscience must tell thee thou hast not kept faith with me. Ah!
poor right hand, which thou didst often grasp. These knees thou
didst embrace! All in vain, I suffered a traitor to touch me! How
short of my hopes I am fallen! But come, I will deal with the as
though thou wert my friend. Yet what kindness can I expect from one so
base as thee? But yet I will do it, for my questioning will show
thee yet more base. Whither can I turn me now? to my father's house,
to my own country, which I for thee deserted to come hither? to the
hapless daughters of Pelias? A glad welcome, I trow, would they give
me in their home, whose father's death I compassed! My case stands
even thus: I am become the bitter foe to those of mine own home, and
those whom I need ne'er have wronged I have made mine enemies to
pleasure thee. Wherefore to reward me for this thou hast made me
doubly blest in the eyes of many wife in Hellas; and in thee I own a
peerless, trusty lord. O woe is me, if indeed I am to be cast forth an
exile from the land, without one friend; one lone woman with her babes
forlorn! Yea, a fine reproach to thee in thy bridal hour, that thy
children and the wife who saved thy life are beggars and vagabonds!
O Zeus! why hast thou granted unto man clear signs to know the sham in
gold, while on man's brow no brand is stamped whereby to gauge the
villain's heart?
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    There is a something terrible and past all cure, when quarrels
arise 'twixt those who are near and dear.
  JASON
    Needs must I now, it seems, turn orator, and, like a good helmsman
on a ship with close-reefed sails, weather that wearisome tongue of
thine. Now, I believe, since thou wilt exaggerate thy favours, that to
Cypri, alone of gods or men I owe the safety of my voyage. Thou hast a
subtle wit enough; yet were it a hateful thing for me to say that
the Love-god constrained thee by his resistless shaft to save my life.
However, I will not reckon this too nicely; 'twas kindly done,
however thou didst serve me. Yet for my safety hast thou received more
than ever thou gavest, as I will show. First, thou dwellest in Hellas,
instead of thy barbarian land, and hast learnt what justice means
and how to live by law, not by the dictates of brute force; and all
the Hellenes recognize thy cleverness, and thou hast gained a name;
whereas, if thou hadst dwelt upon the confines of the earth, no tongue
had mentioned thee. Give me no gold within my halls, nor skill to sing
a fairer strain than ever Orpheus sang, unless there-with my fame be
spread abroad! So much I say to thee about my own toils, for 'twas
thou didst challenge me to this retort. As for the taunts thou
urgest against my marriage with the princess, I will prove to thee,
first, that I am prudent herein, next chastened in my love, and last
powerful friend to thee and to thy sons; only hold thy peace. Since
I have here withdrawn from Iolcos with many a hopeless trouble at my
back, what happier device could I, an exile, frame than marriage
with the daughter of the king? 'Tis not because I loathe thee for my
wife-the thought that rankles in thy heart; 'tis not because I am
smitten with desire for a new bride, nor yet that I am eager to vie
with others in begetting many children, for those we have are quite
enough, and I do not complain. Nay, 'tis that we-and this is most
important-may dwell in comfort, instead of suffering want (for well
I know that every whilom friend avoids the poor), and that I might
rear my sons as doth befit my house; further, that I might be the
father of brothers for the children thou hast borne, and raise these
to the same high rank, uniting the family in one,-to my lasting bliss.
Thou, indeed, hast no need of more children, but me it profits to help
my present family by that which is to be. Have I miscarried here?
Not even thou wouldest say so unless a rival's charms rankled in thy
bosom. No, but you women have such strange ideas, that you think all
is well so long as your married life runs smooth; but if some
mischance occur to ruffle your love, all that was good and lovely erst
you reckon as your foes. Yea, men should have begotten children from
some other source, no female race existing; thus would no evil ever
have fallen on mankind.
  LEADER
    This speech, O Jason, hast thou with specious art arranged; but
yet I think-albeit in speaking I am indiscreet-that thou hast sinned
in thy betrayal of thy wife.
  MEDEA
    No doubt I differ from the mass of men on many points; for, to
my mind, whoso hath skill to fence with words in an unjust cause,
incurs the heaviest penalty; for such an one, confident that he can
cast a decent veil of words o'er his injustice, dares to practise
it; and yet he is not so very clever after all. So do not thou put
forth thy specious pleas and clever words to me now, for one word of
mine will lay thee low. Hadst thou not had a villain's heart, thou
shouldst have gained my consent, then made this match, instead of
hiding it from those who loved thee.
  JASON
    Thou wouldest have lent me ready aid, no doubt, in this
proposal, if had told thee of my marriage, seeing that not even now
canst thou restrain thy soul's hot fury.
  MEDEA
    This was not what restrained thee; but thine eye was turned
towards old age, and a foreign wife began to appear a shame to thee.
  JASON
    Be well assured of this: 'twas not for the woman's sake I wedded
the king's daughter, my present wife; but, as I have already told
thee, I wished to insure thy safety and to be the father of royal sons
bound by blood to my own children-a bulwark to our house.
  MEDEA
    May that prosperity, whose end is woe, ne'er be mine, nor such
wealth as would ever sting my heart!
  JASON
    Change that prayer as I will teach thee, and thou wilt show more
wisdom. Never let happiness appear in sorrow's guise, nor, when thy
fortune smiles, pretend she frowns!
  MEDEA
    Mock on; thou hast a place of refuge; I am alone, an exile soon to
be.
  JASON
    Thy own free choice was this; blame no one else.
  MEDEA
    What did I do? Marry, then betray thee?
  JASON
    Against the king thou didst invoke an impious curse.
  MEDEA
    On thy house too maybe I bring the curse.
  JASON
    Know this, I will no further dispute this point with thee. But, if
thou wilt of my fortune somewhat take for the children or thyself to
help thy exile, say on; for I am ready to grant it with ungrudging
hand, yea and to bend tokens to my friends elsewhere who shall treat
thee well. If thou refuse this offer, thou wilt do a foolish deed, but
if thou cease from anger the greater will be thy gain.
  MEDEA
    I will have naught to do with friends of thine, naught will I
receive of thee, offer it not to me; a villain's gifts can bring no
blessing.
  JASON
    At least I call the gods to witness, that I am ready in all things
to serve thee and thy children, but thou dost scorn my favours and
thrustest thy friends stubbornly away; wherefore thy lot will be
more bitter still.
  MEDEA
    Away! By love for thy young bride entrapped, too long thou
lingerest outside her chamber; go wed, for, if God will, thou shalt
have such a marriage as thou wouldst fain refuse.
                                                    (JASON goes out.)

  CHORUS (singing)

                                                            strophe 1

    When in excess and past all limits Love doth come, he brings not
glory or repute to man; but if the Cyprian queen in moderate might
approach, no goddess is so full of charm as she. Never, O never,
lady mine, discharge at me from thy golden bow a shaft invincible,
in passion's venom dipped.

                                                        antistrophe 1

    On me may chastity, heaven's fairest gift, look with a favouring
eye; never may Cypris, goddess dread, fasten on me a temper to
dispute, or restless jealousy, smiting my soul with mad desire for
unlawful love, but may she hallow peaceful married life and shrewdly
decide whom each of us shall wed.

                                                            strophe 2

    O my country, O my own dear home! God grant I may never be an
outcast from my city, leading that cruel helpless life, whose every
day is misery. Ere that may I this life complete and yield to death,
ay, death; for there is no misery that doth surpass the loss of
fatherland.

                                                        antistrophe 2

    I have seen with mine eyes, nor from the lips of others have I the
lesson learnt; no city, not one friend doth pity thee in this thine
awful woe. May he perish and find no favour, whoso hath not in him
honour for his friends, freely unlocking his heart to them. Never
shall he be friend of mine.

      (MEDEA has been seated in despair on her door-step during
          the choral song. AEGEUS and his attendants enter.)

  AEGEUS
    All hail, Medea! no man knoweth fairer prelude to the greeting
of friends than this.
  MEDEA
    All hail to thee likewise, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion. Whence
comest thou to this land?
  AEGEUS
    From Phoebus' ancient oracle.
  MEDEA
    What took thee on thy travels to the prophetic centre of the
earth?
  AEGEUS
    The wish to ask how I might raise up seed unto myself.
  MEDEA
    Pray tell me, hast thou till now dragged on a childless life?
  AEGEUS
    I have no child owing to the visitation of some god.
  MEDEA
    Hast thou a wife, or hast thou never known the married state?
  AEGEUS
    I have a wife joined to me in wedlock's bond.
  MEDEA
    What said Phoebus to thee as to children?
  AEGEUS
    Words too subtle for man to comprehend.
  MEDEA
    Surely I may learn the god's answer?
  AEGEUS
    Most assuredly, for it is just thy subtle wit it needs.
  MEDEA
    What said the god? speak, if I may hear it.
  AEGEUS
    He bade me "not loose the wineskin's pendent neck."
  MEDEA
    Till when? what must thou do first, what country visit?
  AEGEUS
    Till I to my native home return.
  MEDEA
    What object hast thou in sailing to this land?
  AEGEUS
    O'er Troezen's realm is Pittheus king.
  MEDEA
    Pelops' son, a man devout they say.
  AEGEUS
    To him I fain would impart the oracle of the god.
  MEDEA
    The man is shrewd and versed in such-like lore.
  AEGEUS
    Aye, and to me the dearest of all my warrior friends.
  MEDEA
    Good luck to thee! success to all thy wishes!
  AEGEUS
    But why that downcast eye, that wasted cheek?
  MEDEA
    O Aegeus, my husband has proved most evil.
  AEGEUS
    What meanest thou? explain to me clearly the cause of thy
despondency.
  MEDEA
    Jason is wronging me though I have given him no cause.
  AEGEUS
    What hath he done? tell me more clearly.
  MEDEA
    He is taking another wife to succeed me as mistress of his house.
  AEGEUS
    Can he have brought himself to such a dastard deed?
  MEDEA
    Be assured thereof; I, whom he loved of yore, am in dishonour now.
  AEGEUS
    Hath he found a new love? or does he loathe thy bed?
  MEDEA
    Much in love is he! A traitor to his friend is he become.
  AEGEUS
    Enough! if he is a villain as thou sayest.
  MEDEA
    The alliance he is so much enamoured of is with a princess.
  AEGEUS
    Who gives his daughter to him? go on, I pray.
  MEDEA
    Creon, who is lord of this land of Corinth.
  AEGEUS
    Lady, I can well pardon thy grief.
  MEDEA
    I am undone, and more than that, am banished from the land.
  AEGEUS
    By whom? fresh woe this word of thine unfolds.
  MEDEA
    Creon drives me forth in exile from Corinth.
  AEGEUS
    Doth Jason allow it? This too I blame him for.
  MEDEA
    Not in words, but he will not stand out against it. O, I implore
thee by this beard and by thy knees, in suppliant posture, pity, O
pity my sorrows; do not see me cast forth forlorn, but receive me in
thy country, to a seat within thy halls. So may thy wish by heaven's
grace be crowned with a full harvest of offspring, and may thy life
close in happiness! Thou knowest not the rare good luck thou findest
here, for I will make thy childlessness to cease and cause thee to
beget fair issue; so potent are the spells I know.
  AEGEUS
    Lady, on many grounds I am most fain to grant thee this thy
boon, first for the gods' sake, next for the children whom thou dost
promise I shall beget; for in respect of this I am completely lost.
'Tis thus with me; if e'er thou reach my land, I will attempt to
champion thee as I am bound to do. Only one warning I do give thee
first, lady; I will not from this land bear thee away, yet if of
thyself thou reach my halls, there shalt thou bide in safety and I
will never yield thee up to any man. But from this land escape without
my aid, for I have no wish to incur the blame of my allies as well.
  MEDEA
    It shall be even so; but wouldst thou pledge thy word to this, I
should in all be well content with thee.
  AEGEUS
    Surely thou dost trust me? or is there aught that troubles thee?
  MEDEA
    Thee I trust; but Pelias' house and Creon are my foes.
Wherefore, if thou art bound by an oath, thou wilt not give me up to
them when they come to drag me from the land, but, having entered into
a compact and sworn by heaven as well, thou wilt become my friend
and disregard their overtures. Weak is any aid of mine, whilst they
have wealth and a princely house.
  AEGEUS
    Lady, thy words show much foresight, so if this is thy will, I
do not, refuse. For I shall feel secure and safe if I have some
pretext to offer to thy foes, and thy case too the firmer stands.
Now name thy gods.
  MEDEA
    Swear by the plain of Earth, by Helios my father's sire, and, in
one comprehensive oath, by all the race of gods.
  AEGEUS
    What shall I swear to do, from what refrain? tell me that.
  MEDEA
    Swear that thou wilt never of thyself expel me from thy land, nor,
whilst life is thine, permit any other, one of my foes maybe, to
hale me thence if so he will.
  AEGEUS
    By Earth I swear, by the Sun-god's holy beam and by all the host
of heaven that I will stand fast to the terms I hear thee make.
  MEDEA
    'Tis enough. If thou shouldst break this oath, what curse dost
thou invoke upon thyself?
  AEGEUS
    Whate'er betides the impious.
  MEDEA
    Go in peace; all is well, and I with what speed I may, will to thy
city come, when I have wrought my purpose and obtained my wish.
                                     (AEGEUS and his retinue depart.)
  CHORUS (chanting)
    May Maia's princely son go with thee on thy way to bring thee to
thy home, and mayest thou attain that on which thy soul is set so
firmly, for to my mind thou seemest a generous man, O Aegeus.
  MEDEA
    O Zeus, and Justice, child of Zeus, and Sun-god's light, now
will triumph o'er my foes, kind friends; on victory's road have I
set forth; good hope have I of wreaking vengeance on those I hate. For
where we were in most distress this stranger hath appeared, to be a
haven in my counsels; to him will we make fast the cables of our
ship when we come to the town and citadel of Pallas. But now will I
explain to thee my plans in full; do not expect to hear a pleasant
tale. A servant of mine will I to Jason send and crave an interview;
then when he comes I will address him with soft words, say, "this
pleases me," and, "that is well," even the marriage with the princess,
which my treacherous lord is celebrating, and add "it suits us both,
'twas well thought out"; then will I entreat that here my children may
abide, not that I mean to leave them in a hostile land for foes to
flout, but that I may slay the king's daughter by guile. For I will
send them with gifts in their hands, carrying them unto the bride to
save them from banishment, a robe of finest woof and a chaplet of
gold. And if these ornaments she take and put them on, miserably shall
she die, and likewise everyone who touches her; with such fell poisons
will I smear my gifts. And here I quit this theme; but I shudder at
the deed I must do next; for I will slay the children I have borne;
there is none shall take them from my toils; and when I have utterly
confounded Jason's house I will leave the land, escaping punishment
for my dear children's murder, after my most unholy deed. For I cannot
endure the taunts of enemies, kind friends; enough! what gain is
life to me? I have no country, home, or refuge left. O, I did wrong,
that hour I left my father's home, persuaded by that Hellene's
words, who now shall pay the penalty, so help me God, Never shall he
see again alive the children I bore to him, nor from his new bride
shall he beget issue, for she must die a hideous death, slain by my
drugs. Let no one deem me a poor weak woman who sits with folded
hands, but of another mould, dangerous to foes and well-disposed to
friends; for they win the fairest fame who live then, life like me.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    Since thou hast imparted this design to me, I bid thee hold thy
hand, both from a wish to serve thee and because I would uphold the
laws men make.
  MEDEA
    It cannot but be so; thy words I pardon since thou art not in
the same sorry plight that I am.
  LEADER
    O lady, wilt thou steel thyself to slay thy children twain?
  MEDEA
    I will, for that will stab my husband to the heart.
  LEADER
    It may, but thou wilt be the saddest wife alive.
  MEDEA
    No matter; wasted is every word that comes 'twixt now and then.
Ho! (The NURSE enters in answer to her call.) Thou, go call me Jason
hither, for thee I do employ on every mission of trust. No word
divulge of all my purpose, as thou art to thy mistress loyal and
likewise of my sex.
                                                (The NURSE goes out.)

  CHORUS (singing)

                                                            strophe 1

    Sons of Erechtheus, heroes happy from of yore, children of the
blessed gods, fed on wisdom's glorious food in a holy land ne'er
pillaged by its foes, ye who move with sprightly step through a
climate ever bright and clear, where, as legend tells, the Muses nine,
Pieria's holy maids, were brought to birth by Harmonia with the golden
hair.

                                                        antistrophe 1

    And poets sing how Cypris drawing water from the streams of
fair-flowing Cephissus breathes o'er the land a gentle breeze of balmy
winds, and ever as she crowns her tresses with a garland of sweet
rose-buds sends forth the Loves to sit by wisdom's side, to take
part in every excellence.

                                                            strophe 2

    How then shall the city of sacred streams, the land that
welcomes those it loves, receive thee, the murderess of thy
children, thee whose presence with others is a pollution? 'Think on
the murder of thy children, consider the bloody deed thou takest on
thee. Nay, by thy knees we, one and all, implore thee, slay not thy
babes.

                                                        antistrophe 2

    Where shall hand or heart find hardihood enough in wreaking such a
fearsome deed upon thy sons? How wilt thou look upon thy babes, and
still without a tear retain thy bloody purpose? Thou canst not, when
they fall at thy feet for mercy, steel thy heart and dip in their
blood thy hand.
                                                      (JASON enters.)
  JASON
    I am come at thy bidding, for e'en though thy hate for me is
bitter thou shalt not fail in this small boon, but I will hear what
new request thou hast to make of me, lady.
  MEDEA
    Jason, I crave thy pardon for the words I spoke, and well thou
mayest brook my burst of passion, for ere now we twain have shared
much love. For I have reasoned with my soul and railed upon me thus,
"Ah! poor heart! why am I thus distraught, why so angered 'gainst
all good advice, why have I come to hate the rulers of the land, my
husband too, who does the best for me he can, in wedding with a
princess and rearing for my children noble brothers? Shall I not cease
to fret? What possesses me, when heaven its best doth offer? Have I
not my children to consider? do I forget that we are fugitives, in
need of friends?" When I had thought all this I saw how foolish I
had been, how senselessly enraged. So now do commend thee and think
thee most wise in forming this connection for us; but I was mad, I who
should have shared in these designs, helped on thy plans, and lent
my aid to bring about the match, only too pleased to wait upon thy
bride. But what we are, we are, we women, evil I will not say;
wherefore thou shouldst not sink to our sorry level nor with our
weapons meet our childishness.
    I yield and do confess that I was wrong then, but now have I
come to a better mind. Come hither, my children, come, leave the
house, step forth, and with me greet and bid farewell to your
father, be reconciled from all past bitterness unto your friends, as
now your mother is; for we have made a truce and anger is no more.

     (The ATTENDANT comes out of the house with the children.)

    Take his right hand; ah me! my sad fate! when I reflect, as now,
upon the hidden future. O my children, since there awaits you even
thus a long, long life, stretch forth the hand to take a fond
farewell. Ah me! how new to tears am I, how full of fear! For now that
I have at last released me from my quarrel with your father, I let the
tear-drops stream adown my tender cheek.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    From my eyes too bursts forth the copious tear; O, may no
greater ill than the present e'er befall!
  JASON
    Lady, I praise this conduct, not that I blame what is past; for it
is but natural to the female sex to vent their spleen against a
husband when he trafficks in other marriages besides his own. But
thy heart is changed to wiser schemes and thou art determined on the
better course, late though it be; this is acting like a woman of sober
sense. And for you, my sons, hath your father provided with all good
heed a sure refuge, by God's grace; for ye, I trow, shall with your
brothers share hereafter the foremost rank in this Corinthian realm.
Only grow up, for all the rest your sire and whoso of the gods is kind
to us is bringing to pass. May I see you reach man's full estate, high
o'er the heads of those I hate! But thou, lady, why with fresh tears
dost thou thine eyelids wet, turning away thy wan cheek, with no
welcome for these my happy tidings?
  MEDEA
    'Tis naught; upon these children my thoughts were turned.
  JASON
    Then take heart; for I will see that it is well with them.
  MEDEA
    I will do so; nor will I doubt thy word; woman is a weak creature,
ever given to tears.
  JASON
    Why prithee, unhappy one, dost moan o'er these children?
  MEDEA
    I gave them birth; and when thou didst pray long life for them,
pity entered into my soul to think that these things must be. But
the reason of thy coming hither to speak with me is partly told, the
rest will I now mention. Since it is the pleasure of the rulers of the
land to banish me, and well I know 'twere best for me to stand not
in the way of thee or of the rulers by dwelling here, enemy as I am
thought unto their house, forth from this land in exile am I going,
but these children,-that they may know thy fostering hand, beg Creon
to remit their banishment.
  JASON
    I doubt whether I can persuade him, yet must I attempt it.
  MEDEA
    At least do thou bid thy wife ask her sire this boon, to remit the
exile of the children from this land.
  JASON
    Yea, that will I; and her methinks I shall persuade, since she
is woman like the rest.
  MEDEA
    I too will aid thee in this task, for by the children's hand I
will send to her gifts that far surpass in beauty, I well know,
aught that now is seen 'mongst men, a robe of finest tissue and a
chaplet of chased gold. But one of my attendants must haste and
bring the ornaments hither. (A servant goes into the house.) Happy
shall she be not once alone but ten thousand-fold, for in thee she
wins the noblest soul to share her love, and gets these gifts as
well which on a day my father's sire, the Sun-god, bestowed on his
descendants. (The servant returns and hands the gifts to the
children.) My children, take in your hands these wedding gifts, and
bear them as an offering to the royal maid, the happy bride; for
verily the gifts she shall receive are not to be scorned.
  JASON
    But why so rashly rob thyself of these gifts? Dost think a royal
palace wants for robes or gold? Keep them, nor give them to another.
For well I know that if my lady hold me in esteem, she will set my
price above all wealth.
  MEDEA
    Say not so; 'tis said that gifts tempt even gods; and o'er men's
minds gold holds more potent sway than countless words. Fortune smiles
upon thy bride, and heaven now doth swell her triumph; youth is hers
and princely power; yet to save my children from exile I would
barter life, not dross alone. Children, when we are come to the rich
palace, pray your father's new bride, my mistress, with suppliant
voice to save you from exile, offering her these ornaments the
while; for it is most needful that she receive the gifts in her own
hand. Now go and linger not; may ye succeed and to your mother bring
back the glad tidings she fain would hear

        (JASON, the ATTENDANT, and the children go out together.)

  CHORUS (singing)

                                                            strophe 1

    Gone, gone is every hope I had that the children yet might live;
forth to their doom they now proceed. The hapless bride will take, ay,
take the golden crown that is to be her ruin; with her own hand will
she lift and place upon her golden locks the garniture of death.

                                                        antistrophe 1

    Its grace and sheen divine will tempt her to put on the robe and
crown of gold, and in that act will she deck herself to be a bride
amid the dead. Such is the snare whereinto she will fall, such is
the deadly doom that waits the hapless maid, nor shall she from the
curse escape.

                                                            strophe 2

    And thou, poor wretch, who to thy sorrow art wedding a king's
daughter, little thinkest of the doom thou art bringing on thy
children's life, or of the cruel death that waits thy bride. Woe is
thee! how art thou fallen from thy high estate!

                                                        antistrophe 2

    Next do I bewail thy sorrows, O mother hapless in thy children,
thou who wilt slay thy babes because thou hast a rival, the babes
thy husband hath deserted impiously to join him to another bride.

            (The ATTENDANT enters with the children.)

  ATTENDANT
    Thy children, lady, are from exile freed, and gladly did the royal
bride accept thy gifts in her own hands, and so thy children made
their peace with her.
  MEDEA
    Ah!
  ATTENDANT
    Why art so disquieted in thy prosperous hour? Why turnest thou thy
cheek away, and hast no welcome for my glad news?
  MEDEA
    Ah me!
  ATTENDANT
    These groans but ill accord with the news I bring.
  MEDEA
    Ah me! once more I say.
  ATTENDANT
    Have I unwittingly announced some evil tidings? Have I erred in
thinking my news was good?
  MEDEA
    Thy news is as it is; I blame thee not.
  ATTENDANT
    Then why this downcast eye, these floods of tears?
  MEDEA
    Old friend, needs must I weep; for the gods and I with fell intent
devised these schemes.
  ATTENDANT
    Be of good cheer; thou too of a surety shalt by thy sons yet be
brought home again.
  MEDEA
    Ere that shall I bring others to their home, ah! woe is me
  ATTENDANT
    Thou art not the only mother from thy children reft. Bear
patiently thy troubles as a mortal must.
  MEDEA
    I will obey; go thou within the house and make the day's provision
for the children. (The ATTENDANT enters the house. MEDEA turns to
the children.) O my babes, my babes, ye have still a city and a
home, where far from me and my sad lot you will live your lives,
reft of your mother for ever; while I must to another land in
banishment, or ever I have had my joy of you, or lived to see you
happy, or ever I have graced your marriage couch, your bride, your
bridal bower, or lifted high the wedding torch. Ah me! a victim of
my own self-will. So it was all in vain I reared you, O my sons; in
vain did suffer, racked with anguish, enduring the cruel pangs of
childbirth. 'Fore Heaven I once had hope, poor me! high hope of ye
that you would nurse me in my age and deck my corpse with loving
hands, a boon we mortals covet; but now is my sweet fancy dead and
gone; for I must lose you both and in bitterness and sorrow drag
through life. And ye shall never with fond eyes see your mother more
for o'er your life there comes a change. Ah me! ah me! why do ye
look at me so, my children? why smile that last sweet smile? Ah me!
what am I to do? My heart gives way when I behold my children's
laughing eyes. O, I cannot; farewell to all my former schemes; I
will take the children from the land, the babes I bore. Why should I
wound their sire by wounding them, and get me a twofold measure of
sorrow? No, no, I will not do it. Farewell my scheming! And yet what
possesses me? Can I consent to let those foes of mine escape from
punishment, and incur their mockery? I must face this deed. Out upon
my craven heart! to think that I should even have let the soft words
escape my soul. Into the house, children! (The children go into the
house.) And whoso feels he must not be present at my sacrifice, must
see to it himself; I will not spoil my handiwork. Ah! ah! do not, my
heart, O do not do this deed! Let the children go, unhappy one,
spare the babes! For if they live, they will cheer thee in our exile
there. Nay, by the fiends of hell's abyss, never, never will I hand my
children over to their foes to mock and flout. Die they must in any
case, and since 'tis so, why I, the mother who bore them, will give
the fatal blow. In any case their doom is fixed and there is no
escape. Already the crown is on her head, the robe is round her, and
she is dying, the royal bride; that do I know full well. But now since
I have a piteous path to tread, and yet more piteous still the path
I send my children on, fain would I say farewell to them. (The
children come out at her call. She takes them in her arms.) O my
babes, my babes, let your mother kiss your hands. Ah! hands I love
so well, O lips most dear to me! O noble form and features of my
children, I wish ye joy, but in that other land, for here your
father robs you of your home. O the sweet embrace, the soft young
cheek, the fragrant breath! my children! Go, leave me; I cannot bear
to longer look upon ye; my sorrow wins the day. At last I understand
the awful deed I am to do; but passion, that cause of direst woes to
mortal man, hath triumphed o'er my sober thoughts.

          (She goes into the house with the children.)

  CHORUS (chanting)
    Oft ere now have I pursued subtler themes and have faced graver
issues than woman's sex should seek to probe; but then e'en we
aspire to culture, which dwells with us to teach us wisdom; I say
not all; for small is the class amongst women-(one maybe shalt thou
find 'mid many)-that is not incapable of wisdom. And amongst mortals I
do assert that they who are wholly without experience and have never
had children far surpass in happiness those who are parents. The
childless, because they have never proved whether children grow up
to be a blessing or curse to men are removed from all share in many
troubles; whilst those who have a sweet race of children growing up in
their houses do wear away, as I perceive, their whole life through;
first with the thought how they may train them up in virtue, next
how they shall leave their sons the means to live; and after all
this 'tis far from clear whether on good or bad children they bestow
their toil. But one last crowning woe for every mortal man now will
name; suppose that they have found sufficient means to live, and
seen their children grow to man's estate and walk in virtue's path,
still if fortune so befall, comes Death and bears the children's
bodies off to Hades. Can it be any profit to the gods to heap upon
us mortal men beside our other woes this further grief for children
lost, a grief surpassing all?
                                      (MEDEA comes out of the house.)
  MEDEA
    Kind friends, long have I waited expectantly to know how things
would at the palace chance. And lo! I see one of Jason's servants
coming hither, whose hurried gasps for breath proclaim him the
bearer of some fresh tidings.
                                             (A MESSENGER rushes in.)
  MESSENGER
    Fly, fly, Medea! who hast wrought an awful deed, transgressing
every law: nor leave behind or sea-borne bark or car that scours the
plain.
  MEDEA
    Why, what hath chanced that calls for such a flight of mine?
  MESSENGER
    The princess is dead, a moment gone, and Creon too, her sire,
slain by those drugs of thine.
  MEDEA
    Tidings most fair are thine! Henceforth shalt thou be ranked
amongst my friends and benefactors.
  MESSENGER
    Ha! What? Art sane? Art not distraught, lady, who hearest with joy
the outrage to our royal house done, and art not at the horrid tale
afraid?
  MEDEA
    Somewhat have I, too, to say in answer to thy words. Be not so
hasty, friend, but tell the manner of their death, for thou wouldst
give me double joy, if so they perished miserably.
  MESSENGER
    When the children twain whom thou didst bear came with their
father and entered the palace of the bride, right glad were we thralls
who had shared thy griefs, for instantly from ear to ear a rumour
spread that thou and thy lord had made up your former quarrel. One
kissed thy children's hands, another their golden hair, while I for
very joy went with them in person to the women's chambers. Our
mistress, whom now we do revere in thy room, cast a longing glance
at Jason, ere she saw thy children twain; but then she veiled her eyes
and turned her blanching cheek away, disgusted at their coming; but
thy husband tried to check his young bride's angry humour with these
words: "O, be not angered 'gainst thy friends; cease from wrath and
turn once more thy face this way, counting as friends whomso thy
husband counts, and accept these gifts, and for my sake crave thy sire
to remit these children's exile." Soon as she saw the ornaments, no
longer she held out, but yielded to her lord in all; and ere the
father and his sons were far from the palace gone, she took the
broidered robe and put it on, and set the golden crown about her
tresses, arranging her hair at her bright mirror, with many a happy
smile at her breathless counterfeit. Then rising from her seat she
passed across the chamber, tripping lightly on her fair white foot,
exulting in the gift, with many a glance at her uplifted ankle. When
lo! a scene of awful horror did ensue. In a moment she turned pale,
reeled backwards, trembling in every limb, and sinks upon a seat
scarce soon enough to save herself from falling to the ground. An aged
dame, one of her company, thinking belike it was a fit from Pan or
some god sent, raised a cry of prayer, till from her mouth she saw the
foam-flakes issue, her eyeballs rolling in their sockets, and all
the blood her face desert; then did she raise a loud scream far
different from her former cry. Forthwith one handmaid rushed to her
father's house, another to her new bridegroom to tell his bride's
sad fate, and the whole house echoed with their running to and fro. By
this time would a quick walker have made the turn in a course of six
plethra and reached the goal, when she with one awful shriek awoke,
poor sufferer, from her speechless trance and oped her closed eyes,
for against her a twofold anguish was warring. The chaplet of gold
about her head was sending forth a wondrous stream of ravening
flame, while the fine raiment, thy children's gift, was preying on the
hapless maiden's fair white flesh; and she starts from her seat in a
blaze and seeks to fly, shaking her hair and head this way and that,
to cast the crown therefrom; but the gold held firm to its fastenings,
and the flame, as she shook her locks, blazed forth the more with
double fury. Then to the earth she sinks, by the cruel blow
o'ercome; past all recognition now save to a father's eye; for her
eyes had lost their tranquil gaze, her face no more its natural look
preserved, and from the crown of her head blood and fire in mingled
stream ran down; and from her bones the flesh kept peeling off beneath
the gnawing of those secret drugs, e'en as when the pine-tree weeps
its tears of pitch, a fearsome sight to see. And all were afraid to
touch the corpse, for we were warned by what had chanced. Anon came
her haples father unto the house, all unwitting of her doom, and
stumbles o'er the dead, and loud he cried, and folding his arms
about her kissed her, with words like these the while, "O my poor,
poor child, which of the gods hath destroyed thee thus foully? Who
is robbing me of thee, old as I am and ripe for death? O my child,
alas! would I could die with thee!" He ceased his sad lament, and
would have raised his aged frame, but found himself held fast by the
fine-spun robe as ivy that clings to the branches of the bay, and then
ensued a fearful struggle. He strove to rise, but she still held him
back; and if ever he pulled with all his might, from off his bones his
aged flesh he tore. At last he gave it up, and breathed forth his soul
in awful suffering; for he could no longer master the pain. So there
they lie, daughter and aged sire, dead side by side, a grievous
sight that calls for tears. And as for thee, I leave thee out of my
consideration, for thyself must discover a means to escape punishment.
Not now for the first time I think this human life a shadow; yea,
and without shrinking I will say that they amongst men who pretend
to wisdom and expend deep thought on words do incur a serious charge
of folly; for amongst mortals no man is happy; wealth may pour in
and make one luckier than another, but none can happy be.
                                             (The MESSENGER departs.)
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    This day the deity, it seems, will mass on Jason, as he well
deserves, heavy load of evils. Woe is thee, daughter of Creon We
pity thy sad fate, gone as thou art to Hades' halls as the price of
thy marriage with Jason.
  MEDEA
    My friends, I am resolved upon the deed; at once will I slay my
children and then leave this land, without delaying long enough to
hand them over to some more savage hand to butcher. Needs must they
die in any case; and since they must, I will slay them-I, the mother
that bare them. O heart of mine, steel thyself! Why do I hesitate to
do the awful deed that must be done? Come, take the sword, thou
wretched hand of mine! Take it, and advance to the post whence
starts thy life of sorrow! Away with cowardice! Give not one thought
to thy babes, how dear they are or how thou art their mother. This one
brief day forget thy children dear, and after that lament; for
though thou wilt slay them yet they were thy darlings still, and I
am a lady of sorrows.
                                            (MEDEA enters the house.)
  CHORUS (chanting)
    O earth, O sun whose beam illumines all, look, look upon this lost
woman, ere she stretch forth her murderous hand upon her sons for
blood; for lo! these are scions of thy own golden seed, and the
blood of gods is in danger of being shed by man. O light, from Zeus
proceeding, stay her, hold her hand, forth from the house chase this
fell bloody fiend by demons led. Vainly wasted were the throes thy
children cost thee; vainly hast thou borne, it seems, sweet babes, O
thou who hast left behind thee that passage through the blue
Symplegades, that strangers justly hate. Ah! hapless one, why doth
fierce anger thy soul assail? Why in its place is fell murder
growing up? For grievous unto mortal men are pollutions that come of
kindred blood poured on the earth, woes to suit each crime hurled from
heaven on the murderer's house.
  FIRST SON (within)
    Ah, me; what can I do? Whither fly to escape my mother's blows?
  SECOND SON (within)
    I know not, sweet brother mine; we are lost.
  CHORUS (chanting)
    Didst hear, didst hear the children's cry? O lady, born to sorrow,
victim of an evil fate! Shall I enter the house? For the children's
sake I am resolved to ward off the murder.
  FIRST SON (within)
    Yea, by heaven I adjure you; help, your aid is needed.
  SECOND SON (within)
    Even now the toils of the sword are closing round us.
  CHORUS (chanting)
    O hapless mother, surely thou hast a heart of stone or steel to
slay the offspring of thy womb by such a murderous doom. Of all the
wives of yore I know but one who laid her hand upon her children dear,
even Ino, whom the gods did madden in the day that the wife of Zeus
drove her wandering from her home. But she, poor sufferer, flung
herself into the sea because of the foul murder of her children,
leaping o'er the wave-beat cliff, and in her death was she united to
her children twain. Can there be any deed of horror left to follow
this? Woe for the wooing of women fraught with disaster! What
sorrows hast thou caused for men ere now!
                                    (JASON and his attendants enter.)
  JASON
    Ladies, stationed near this house, pray tell me is the author of
these hideous deeds, Medea, still within, or hath she fled from hence?
For she must hide beneath the earth or soar on wings towards
heaven's vault, if she would avoid the vengeance of the royal house.
Is she so sure she will escape herself unpunished from this house,
when she hath slain the rulers of the land? But enough of this! I am
forgetting her children. As for her, those whom she hath wronged
will do the like by her; but I am come to save the children's life,
lest the victim's kin visit their wrath on me, in vengeance for the
murder foul, wrought by my children's mother.
  LEADER OF THE CHORUS
    Unhappy man, thou knowest not the full extent of thy misery,
else had thou never said those words.
  JASON
    How now? Can she want to kill me too?
  LEADER
    Thy sons are dead; slain by their own mother's hand.
  JASON
    O God! what sayest thou? Woman, thou hast sealed my doom.
  LEADER
    Thy children are no more; be sure of this.
  JASON
    Where slew she them; within the palace or outside?
  LEADER
    Throw wide the doors and see thy children's murdered corpses.
  JASON
    Haste, ye slaves, loose the bolts, undo the fastenings, that I may
see the sight of twofold woe, my murdered sons and her, whose blood in
vengeance I will shed.

         (MEDEA appears above the house, on a chariot drawn by
            dragons; the children's corpses are beside her.)

  MEDEA
    Why shake those doors and attempt to loose their bolts, in quest
of the dead and me their murderess? From such toil desist. If thou
wouldst aught with me, say on, if so thou wilt; but never shalt thou
lay hand on me, so swift the steeds the sun, my father's sire, to me
doth give to save me from the hand of my foes.
  JASON
    Accursed woman! by gods, by me and all mankind abhorred as never
woman was, who hadst the heart to stab thy babes, thou their mother,
leaving me undone and childless; this hast thou done and still dost
gaze upon the sun and earth after this deed most impious. Curses on
thee! now perceive what then I missed in the day I brought thee,
fraught with doom, from thy home in a barbarian land to dwell in
Hellas, traitress to thy sire and to the land that nurtured thee. On
me the gods have hurled the curse that dogged thy steps, for thou
didst slay thy brother at his hearth ere thou cam'st aboard our fair
ship, Argo. Such was the outset of thy life of crime; then didst
thou wed with me, and having borne me sons to glut thy passion's lust,
thou now hast slain them. Not one amongst the wives of Hellas e'er had
dared this deed; yet before them all I chose thee for my wife, wedding
a foe to be my doom, no woman, but a lioness fiercer than Tyrrhene
Scylla in nature. But with reproaches heaped thousandfold I cannot
wound thee, so brazen is thy nature. Perish, vile sorceress, murderess
of thy babes! Whilst I must mourn my luckless fate, for I shall
ne'er enjoy my new-found bride, nor shall I have the children, whom
I bred and reared, alive to say the last farewell to me; nay, I have
lost them.
  MEDEA
    To this thy speech I could have made a long reply, but Father Zeus
knows well all I have done for thee, and the treatment thou hast given
me. Yet thou wert not ordained to scorn my love and lead a life of joy
in mockery of me, nor was thy royal bride nor Creon, who gave thee a
second wife, to thrust me from this land and rue it not. Wherefore, if
thou wilt, call me e'en a lioness, and Scylla, whose home is in the
Tyrrhene land; for I in turn have wrung thy heart, as well I might.
  JASON
    Thou, too, art grieved thyself, and sharest in my sorrow.
  MEDEA
    Be well assured I am; but it relieves my pain to know thou canst
not mock at me.
  JASON
    O my children, how vile a mother ye have found!
  MEDEA
    My sons, your father's feeble lust has been your ruin!
  JASON
    'Twas not my hand, at any rate, that slew them.
  MEDEA
    No, but thy foul treatment of me, and thy new marriage.
  JASON
    Didst think that marriage cause enough to murder them?
  MEDEA
    Dost think a woman counts this a trifling injury?
  JASON
    So she be self-restrained; but in thy eyes all is evil.
  MEDEA
    Thy sons are dead and gone. That will stab thy heart.
  JASON
    They live, methinks, to bring a curse upon thy head.
  MEDEA
    The gods know, whoso of them began this troublous coil.
  JASON
    Indeed, they know that hateful heart of thine.
  MEDEA
    Thou art as hateful. I am aweary of thy bitter tongue.
  JASON
    And I likewise of thine. But parting is easy.
  MEDEA
    Say how; what am I to do? for I am fain as thou to go.
  JASON
    Give up to me those dead, to bury and lament.
  MEDEA
    No, never! I will bury them myself, bearing them to Hera's
sacred field, who watches o'er the Cape, that none of their foes may
insult them by pulling down their tombs; and in this land of
Sisyphus I will ordain hereafter a solemn feast and mystic rites to
atone for this impious murder. Myself will now to the land of
Erechtheus, to dwell with Aegeus, Pandion's son. But thou, as well
thou mayst, shalt die a caitiff's death, thy head crushed 'neath a
shattered relic of Argo, when thou hast seen the bitter ending of my
marriage.
  JASON
    The curse of our sons' avenging spirit and of justice, that
calls for blood, be on thee!
  MEDEA
    What god or power divine hears thee, breaker of oaths and every
law of hospitality?
  JASON
    Fie upon thee! cursed witch! child-murderess!
  MEDEA
    To thy house! go, bury thy wife.
  JASON
    I go, bereft of both my sons.
  MEDEA
    Thy grief is yet to come; wait till old age is with thee too.
  JASON
    O my dear, dear children!
  MEDEA
    Dear to their mother, not to thee.
  JASON
    And yet thou didst slay them?
  MEDEA
    Yea, to vex thy heart.
  JASON
    One last fond kiss, ah me! I fain would on their lips imprint.
  MEDEA
    Embraces now, and fond farewells for them; but then a cold
repulse!
  JASON
    By heaven I do adjure thee, let me touch their tender skin.
  MEDEA
    No, no! in vain this word has sped its flight.
  JASON
    O Zeus, dost hear how I am driven hence; dost mark the treatment I
receive from this she-lion, fell murderess of her young? Yet so far as
I may and can, I raise for them a dirge, and do adjure the gods to
witness how thou hast slain my sons, and wilt not suffer me to embrace
or bury their dead bodies. Would I had never begotten them to see thee
slay them after all!
                                    (The chariot carries MEDEA away.)
  CHORUS (chanting)
    Many a fate doth Zeus dispense, high on his Olympian throne; oft
do the gods bring things to pass beyond man's expectation; that, which
we thought would be, is not fulfilled, while for the unlooked-for
god finds out a way; and such hath been the issue of this matter.


                                   -THE END-
