Medea
Before Medea’s house in Corinth. · Abandoned by Jason, Medea plots her revenge.
Prologue
The Nurse tells how Medea came to Corinth; the Tutor reports a coming exile; Medea cries out inside.
NurseΕἴθʼ ὤφελʼ Ἀργοῦς μὴ διαπτάσθαι σκάφος
Κόλχων ἐς αἶαν κυανέας Συμπληγάδας,
μηδʼ ἐν νάπαισι Πηλίου πεσεῖν ποτε
τμηθεῖσα πεύκη, μηδʼ ἐρετμῶσαι χέρας
ἀνδρῶν ἀριστέων οἳ τὸ πάγχρυσον δέρος
Πελίᾳ μετῆλθον. οὐ γὰρ ἂν δέσποινʼ ἐμὴ
Μήδεια πύργους γῆς ἔπλευσʼ Ἰωλκίας
ἔρωτι θυμὸν ἐκπλαγεῖσʼ Ἰάσονος,
οὐδʼ ἂν κτανεῖν πείσασα Πελιάδας κόρας
πατέρα κατῴκει τήνδε γῆν Κορινθίαν
ξὺν ἀνδρὶ καὶ τέκνοισι, λανθάνουσα μὲν
φυγῇ πολιτῶν ὧν ἀφίκετο χθόνα,
αὐτὴ δὲ πάντα ξυμφέρουσʼ Ἰάσονι·
NurseIf only the Argo had never winged its way to the land of the Colchians, through the dark-blue Clashing Rocks! If only the pine had never been cut in the glens of Pelion and fallen, to put oars in the hands of the heroes who went to fetch the golden fleece for Pelias! Then my mistress Medea would never have sailed to the towers of the land of Iolcus, her heart struck senseless with love for Jason. She would never have talked the daughters of Pelias into killing their father, and she wouldn’t be living here in this land of Corinth with her husband and children, unnoticed in her exile by the citizens whose country she came to, and going along with Jason in everything herself.
ἥπερ μεγίστη γίγνεται σωτηρία,
ὅταν γυνὴ πρὸς ἄνδρα μὴ διχοστατῇ.
νῦν δʼ ἐχθρὰ πάντα, καὶ νοσεῖ τὰ φίλτατα.
προδοὺς γὰρ αὑτοῦ τέκνα δεσπότιν τʼ ἐμὴν
γάμοις Ἰάσων βασιλικοῖς εὐνάζεται,
γήμας Κρέοντος παῖδʼ, ὃς αἰσυμνᾷ χθονός·
Μήδεια δʼ ἡ δύστηνος ἠτιμασμένη
βοᾷ μὲν ὅρκους, ἀνακαλεῖ δὲ δεξιᾶς
πίστιν μεγίστην, καὶ θεοὺς μαρτύρεται
οἵας ἀμοιβῆς ἐξ Ἰάσονος κυρεῖ.
And that is the greatest safeguard there is, when a wife is not at odds with her husband. But now everything has turned hostile, and what was dearest is sick. Jason has betrayed his own children and my mistress, and he’s bedding down in a royal marriage. He has married the daughter of Creon, who rules this land. And Medea, poor woman, cast off in dishonor, cries out about the oaths, appeals to the pledge of his right hand, the greatest pledge there is, and calls on the gods to witness what return she is getting from Jason.
κεῖται δʼ ἄσιτος, σῶμʼ ὑφεῖσʼ ἀλγηδόσι,
τὸν πάντα συντήκουσα δακρύοις χρόνον,
ἐπεὶ πρὸς ἀνδρὸς ᾔσθετʼ ἠδικημένη,
οὔτʼ ὄμμʼ ἐπαίρουσʼ οὔτʼ ἀπαλλάσσουσα γῆς
πρόσωπον· ὡς δὲ πέτρος ἢ θαλάσσιος
κλύδων ἀκούει νουθετουμένη φίλων·
ἢν μή ποτε στρέψασα πάλλευκον δέρην
αὐτὴ πρὸς αὑτὴν πατέρʼ ἀποιμώξῃ φίλον
καὶ γαῖαν οἴκους θʼ, οὓς προδοῦσʼ ἀφίκετο
μετʼ ἀνδρὸς ὅς σφε νῦν ἀτιμάσας ἔχει.
She lies there without eating, her body given up to her pain, wasting away in tears all the time, ever since she learned that her husband had wronged her. She doesn’t lift her eyes or raise her face from the ground. She listens to her friends’ advice the way a rock or a wave of the sea would. Only now and then she turns her pure white neck and, all to herself, weeps aloud for her dear father, her country and her home. She betrayed them to come here with a man who has now cast her off in dishonor.
ἔγνωκε δʼ ἡ τάλαινα συμφορᾶς ὕπο
οἷον πατρῴας μὴ ἀπολείπεσθαι χθονός.
στυγεῖ δὲ παῖδας οὐδʼ ὁρῶσʼ εὐφραίνεται.
δέδοικα δʼ αὐτὴν μή τι βουλεύσῃ νέον·
βαρεῖα γὰρ φρήν, οὐδʼ ἀνέξεται κακῶς
πάσχουσʼ· ἐγᾦδα τήνδε, δειμαίνω τέ νιν.
μὴ θηκτὸν ὤσῃ φάσγανον διʼ ἥπατος,
σιγῇ δόμους εἰσβᾶσʼ, ἵνʼ ἔστρωται λέχος,
ἢ καὶ τύραννον τόν τε γήμαντα κτάνῃ
κἄπειτα μείζω συμφορὰν λάβῃ τινά.
The poor woman has learned from her misfortune what it is worth not to be cut off from your native land. She hates the children and takes no joy in seeing them. I’m afraid she’s planning something unheard-of. Hers is a dangerous mind, and she won’t put up with being treated badly. I know her, and she frightens me. I’m afraid she’ll slip silently into the house where the bed is spread and drive a sharpened sword through the liver, or even kill the king and the bridegroom, and then bring some greater disaster on herself.
δεινὴ γάρ· οὔτοι ῥᾳδίως γε συμβαλὼν
ἔχθραν τις αὐτῇ καλλίνικον οἴσεται.
ἀλλʼ οἵδε παῖδες ἐκ τρόχων πεπαυμένοι
στείχουσι, μητρὸς οὐδὲν ἐννοούμενοι
κακῶν· νέα γὰρ φροντὶς οὐκ ἀλγεῖν φιλεῖ.
She’s formidable. No one who takes her on as an enemy will carry off the victor’s crown easily, I can tell you. But here come the boys, finished with their running. They have no idea of their mother’s troubles. Young minds aren’t much given to grief.
Tutorπαλαιὸν οἴκων κτῆμα δεσποίνης ἐμῆς,
τί πρὸς πύλαισι τήνδʼ ἄγουσʼ ἐρημίαν
ἕστηκας, αὐτὴ θρεομένη σαυτῇ κακά;
πῶς σοῦ μόνη Μήδεια λείπεσθαι θέλει;
TutorYou old fixture of my mistress’s household, why are you standing out here at the gates all alone, moaning to yourself about your troubles? How can Medea want to be left without you?
Nurseτέκνων ὀπαδὲ πρέσβυ τῶν Ἰάσονος,
χρηστοῖσι δούλοις ξυμφορὰ τὰ δεσποτῶν
κακῶς πίτνοντα καὶ φρενῶν ἀνθάπτεται.
ἐγὼ γὰρ εἰς τοῦτʼ ἐκβέβηκʼ ἀλγηδόνος,
ὥσθʼ ἵμερός μʼ ὑπῆλθε γῇ τε κοὐρανῷ
λέξαι μολούσῃ δεῦρο Μηδείας τύχας.
NurseOld man, you who look after Jason’s children: when their masters’ affairs go badly, good slaves feel it as their own misfortune, and it grips their hearts. I’ve come to such a pitch of grief that a longing crept over me to come out here and tell earth and sky what has happened to Medea.
Nurseζηλῶ σʼ· ἐν ἀρχῇ πῆμα κοὐδέπω μεσοῖ.
NurseI envy you. The trouble’s only beginning; it isn’t even halfway yet.
Tutorὦ μῶρος, εἰ χρὴ δεσπότας εἰπεῖν τόδε·
ὡς οὐδὲν οἶδε τῶν νεωτέρων κακῶν.
TutorThe fool—if one may say that of one’s masters. She knows nothing of the latest troubles.
Nurseτί δʼ ἔστιν, ὦ γεραιέ; μὴ φθόνει φράσαι.
NurseWhat is it, old man? Don’t begrudge telling me.
Nurseμή, πρὸς γενείου, κρύπτε σύνδουλον σέθεν·
σιγὴν γάρ, εἰ χρή, τῶνδε θήσομαι πέρι.
NursePlease, by your beard, don’t keep it from a fellow slave. I’ll keep quiet about it, if I have to.
Tutorἤκουσά του λέγοντος οὐ δοκῶν κλύειν,
πεσσοὺς προσελθών, ἔνθα δὴ παλαίτατοι
θάσσουσι, σεμνὸν ἀμφὶ Πειρήνης ὕδωρ,
ὡς τούσδε παῖδας γῆς ἐλᾶν Κορινθίας
σὺν μητρὶ μέλλοι τῆσδε κοίρανος χθονὸς
Κρέων. ὁ μέντοι μῦθος εἰ σαφὴς ὅδε
οὐκ οἶδα· βουλοίμην δʼ ἂν οὐκ εἶναι τόδε.
TutorI heard someone talking—I pretended not to be listening—when I went over to the gaming boards, where the old men sit around the sacred water of Peirene. He was saying that Creon, the ruler of this land, intends to drive these boys out of the land of Corinth together with their mother. Whether the story’s true, though, I don’t know. I’d rather it weren’t.
Nurseκαὶ ταῦτʼ Ἰάσων παῖδας ἐξανέξεται
πάσχοντας, εἰ καὶ μητρὶ διαφορὰν ἔχει;
NurseAnd will Jason stand by while his children are treated like that, even if he is quarreling with their mother?
Tutorπαλαιὰ καινῶν λείπεται κηδευμάτων,
κοὐκ ἔστʼ ἐκεῖνος τοῖσδε δώμασιν φίλος.
TutorOld ties lose out to new ones. He’s no friend of this house.
Nurseἀπωλόμεσθʼ ἄρʼ, εἰ κακὸν προσοίσομεν
νέον παλαιῷ, πρὶν τόδʼ ἐξηντληκέναι.
NurseThen we’re finished, if we’re to take on a new trouble on top of the old before we’ve bailed this one out.
Tutorἀτὰρ σύ γʼ, οὐ γὰρ καιρὸς εἰδέναι τόδε
δέσποιναν, ἡσύχαζε καὶ σίγα λόγον.
TutorBut you—this isn’t the right time for our mistress to know—keep still and don’t say a word.
Nurseὦ τέκνʼ, ἀκούεθʼ οἷος εἰς ὑμᾶς πατήρ;
ὄλοιτο μὲν μή· δεσπότης γάρ ἐστʼ ἐμός·
ἀτὰρ κακός γʼ ὢν εἰς φίλους ἁλίσκεται.
NurseChildren, do you hear what kind of father he is to you? I won’t wish him dead—he’s my master. But he’s been caught out being bad to his own.
Tutorτίς δʼ οὐχὶ θνητῶν; ἄρτι γιγνώσκεις τόδε,
ὡς πᾶς τις αὑτὸν τοῦ πέλας μᾶλλον φιλεῖ,
οἳ μὲν δικαίως, οἳ δὲ καὶ κέρδους χάριν,
εἰ τούσδε γʼ εὐνῆς εἵνεκʼ οὐ στέργει πατήρ.
TutorWho isn’t? Are you only now finding out that everyone loves himself more than his neighbor—some with good reason, some for profit too—when their father doesn’t love these boys, for the sake of a bed?
Nurseἴτʼ, εὖ γὰρ ἔσται, δωμάτων ἔσω, τέκνα.
σὺ δʼ ὡς μάλιστα τούσδʼ ἐρημώσας ἔχε
καὶ μὴ πέλαζε μητρὶ δυσθυμουμένῃ.
ἤδη γὰρ εἶδον ὄμμα νιν ταυρουμένην
τοῖσδʼ ὥς τι δρασείουσαν· οὐδὲ παύσεται
χόλου, σάφʼ οἶδα, πρὶν κατασκῆψαί τινα.
ἐχθρούς γε μέντοι, μὴ φίλους, δράσειέ τι.
NurseGo inside, children; everything will be all right. And you, keep them as far away as you can, and don’t let them near their mother while she’s in this dark mood. I’ve already seen her eyeing them like a bull, as if she meant to do something. She won’t let go of her anger, I know it, until she has struck someone down. Let it be her enemies she does something to, though, not her own!
δύστανος ἐγὼ μελέα τε πόνων,
ἰώ μοί μοι, πῶς ἂν ὀλοίμαν;
Wretched me,
so miserable in my suffering!
Oh, oh, oh—if only I could die!
Nurseτόδʼ ἐκεῖνο, φίλοι παῖδες· μήτηρ
κινεῖ κραδίαν, κινεῖ δὲ χόλον.
σπεύδετε θᾶσσον δώματος εἴσω,
καὶ μὴ πελάσητʼ ὄμματος ἐγγύς,
μηδὲ προσέλθητʼ, ἀλλὰ φυλάσσεσθʼ
ἄγριον ἦθος στυγεράν τε φύσιν
φρενὸς αὐθάδους.
ἴτε νῦν χωρεῖθʼ ὡς τάχος εἴσω.
δῆλον δʼ ἀρχῆς ἐξαιρόμενον
νέφος οἰμωγῆς ὡς τάχʼ ἀνάψει
μείζονι θυμῷ· τί ποτʼ ἐργάσεται
μεγαλόσπλαγχνος δυσκατάπαυστος
ψυχὴ δηχθεῖσα κακοῖσιν;
NurseThere it is, dear children: your mother
is stirring up her heart, stirring up her anger.
Hurry inside the house, quickly,
don’t go where she can see you,
don’t go near her. Beware
of her savage temper, the hateful nature
of that stubborn mind.
Go now, get inside as fast as you can.
It’s clear this cloud of lament
rising from its first beginnings
will soon catch fire
with greater passion. What will it do,
that proud, unstoppable soul,
stung by its wrongs?
Medeaαἰαῖ,
ἔπαθον τλάμων ἔπαθον μεγάλων
ἄξιʼ ὀδυρμῶν· ὦ κατάρατοι
παῖδες ὄλοισθε στυγερᾶς ματρὸς
σὺν πατρί, καὶ πᾶς δόμος ἔρροι.
MedeaAh, ah!
I have suffered, wretched, I have suffered things
that call for great lament! You cursed
children of a hateful mother, die,
you and your father, and let the whole house go to ruin!
Nurseἰώ μοί μοι, ἰὼ τλήμων.
τί δέ σοι παῖδες πατρὸς ἀμπλακίας
μετέχουσι; τί τούσδʼ ἔχθεις; οἴμοι,
τέκνα, μή τι πάθηθʼ ὡς ὑπεραλγῶ.
δεινὰ τυράννων λήματα καί πως
ὀλίγʼ ἀρχόμενοι πολλὰ κρατοῦντες
χαλεπῶς ὀργὰς μεταβάλλουσιν.
τὸ γὰρ εἰθίσθαι ζῆν ἐπʼ ἴσοισιν
κρεῖσσον· ἐμοὶ γοῦν, εἰ μὴ μεγάλως,
ὀχυρῶς γʼ εἴη καταγηράσκειν.
τῶν γὰρ μετρίων πρῶτα μὲν εἰπεῖν
τοὔνομα νικᾷ, χρῆσθαί τε μακρῷ
λῷστα βροτοῖσιν· τὰ δʼ ὑπερβάλλοντʼ
οὐδένα καιρὸν δύναται θνητοῖς·
μείζους δʼ ἄτας, ὅταν ὀργισθῇ
δαίμων, οἴκοις ἀπέδωκεν.
NurseOh, oh, oh! Oh, poor thing!
Why should your children share
their father’s wrongdoing? Why do you hate them? Oh,
children, I’m sick with fear that something will happen to you.
Royal tempers are terrible:
ruled in little, ruling over much,
they’re slow to change their moods.
Being used to living among equals
is better. For me, at least, let me grow old
in safety, if not in greatness.
For moderation—even to speak its name
wins the prize, and to live by it is by far
the best for mortals. But excess
brings no good to human beings.
It pays back greater ruin to houses
whenever a god is angered.
Parodos
Corinthian women gather at the house, and Medea’s cries and the Nurse’s fears answer them.
Chorusἔκλυον φωνάν, ἔκλυον δὲ βοὰν
τᾶς δυστάνου
Κολχίδος, οὐδέ πω ἤπιος· ἀλλά, γεραιά,
λέξον· ἐπʼ ἀμφιπύλου γὰρ ἔσω μελάθρου γόον ἔκλυον·
οὐδὲ συνήδομαι, ὦ γύναι, ἄλγεσι δώματος,
ἐπεί μοι φίλον κέκρανται.
ChorusI heard the voice, I heard the cry
of the unhappy
woman from Colchis. Is she still not calm? Old woman,
tell us. I heard her weeping inside the double-gated house.
I take no pleasure, lady, in the sorrows of this house,
for I’ve come to love it.
Nurseοὐκ εἰσὶ δόμοι· φροῦδα γὰρ ἤδη
τάδʼ· ὃ μὲν γὰρ ἔχει λέκτρα τυράννων,
ἣ δʼ ἐν θαλάμοις τήκει βιοτὴν
δέσποινα, φίλων οὐδενὸς οὐδὲν
παραθαλπομένη φρένα μύθοις.
NurseThere is no house. It’s gone,
all of it. He has a royal bed,
and she, my mistress, wastes her life away in her room,
and no word from any friend
brings any warmth to her heart.
Medeaαἰαῖ,
διά μου κεφαλᾶς φλὸξ οὐρανία
βαίη· τί δέ μοι ζῆν ἔτι κέρδος;
φεῦ φεῦ· θανάτῳ καταλυσαίμαν
βιοτὰν στυγερὰν προλιποῦσα.
MedeaAh, ah!
Let fire from heaven strike
through my head! What good is living to me now?
Oh, oh! Let me find my rest in death
and leave this hateful life behind!
Chorusἄιες, ὦ Ζεῦ καὶ γᾶ καὶ φῶς,
ἀχὰν οἵαν ἁ δύστανος
μέλπει νύμφα;
τίς σοί ποτε τᾶς ἀπλάτου
κοίτας ἔρος, ὦ ματαία,
σπεύσει θανάτου τελευτάν;
μηδὲν τόδε λίσσου.
εἰ δὲ σὸς πόσις
καινὰ λέχη σεβίζει,
κείνῳ τόδε μὴ χαράσσου·
Ζεύς σοι τάδε συνδικήσει. μὴ λίαν
τάκου δυρομένα σὸν εὐνάταν.
ChorusDo you hear, Zeus, Earth and Light,
the cry, the song of grief
the unhappy bride is singing?
What longing, foolish woman,
for that unapproachable bed
will rush you on to death, the end?
Don’t pray for that.
If your husband
worships a new bed,
don’t let it make you rage at him.
Zeus will take up your cause. Don’t
waste away like this, mourning your husband.
Medeaὦ μεγάλα Θέμι καὶ πότνιʼ Ἄρτεμι,
λεύσσεθʼ ἃ πάσχω, μεγάλοις ὅρκοις
ἐνδησαμένα τὸν κατάρατον
πόσιν; ὅν ποτʼ ἐγὼ νύμφαν τʼ ἐσίδοιμʼ
αὐτοῖς μελάθροις διακναιομένους,
οἵ γʼ ἐμὲ πρόσθεν τολμῶσʼ ἀδικεῖν.
ὦ πάτερ, ὦ πόλις, ὧν ἀπενάσθην
αἰσχρῶς τὸν ἐμὸν κτείνασα κάσιν.
MedeaGreat Themis, lady Artemis,
do you see what I suffer—I who bound
my cursed husband with great oaths?
Oh, to see him and his bride one day
ground to pieces, house and all,
for daring to wrong me first, unprovoked!
Father! My city! I left you
in shame, when I killed my own brother.
Nurseκλύεθʼ οἷα λέγει κἀπιβοᾶται
Θέμιν εὐκταίαν Ζῆνά θʼ, ὃς ὅρκων
θνητοῖς ταμίας νενόμισται;
οὐκ ἔστιν ὅπως ἔν τινι μικρῷ
δέσποινα χόλον καταπαύσει.
NurseDo you hear what she says, how she calls
on Themis, who hears prayers, and on Zeus,
whom mortals hold the keeper of oaths?
There’s no way my mistress
will let her anger end in something small.
Chorusπῶς ἂν ἐς ὄψιν τὰν ἁμετέραν
ἔλθοι μύθων τʼ αὐδαθέντων
δέξαιτʼ ὀμφάν,
εἴ πως βαρύθυμον ὀργὰν
καὶ λῆμα φρενῶν μεθείη.
μήτοι τό γʼ ἐμὸν πρόθυμον
φίλοισιν ἀπέστω.
ἀλλὰ βᾶσά νιν
δεῦρο πόρευσον οἴκων
ἔξω, φίλα καὶ τάδʼ αὔδα·
σπεῦσον πρίν τι κακῶσαι τοὺς εἴσω·
πένθος γὰρ μεγάλως τόδʼ ὁρμᾶται.
ChorusIf only she would come where we can see her
and take to heart the sound
of the words we speak—/ maybe she would let go
of her heavy anger, the fury in her mind.
May my goodwill
never fail my friends!
Go, then,
bring her out of the house,
and tell her this: we too are her friends.
Hurry, before she harms those inside.
This grief of hers is surging on with terrible force.
Nurseδράσω τάδʼ· ἀτὰρ φόβος εἰ πείσω
δέσποιναν ἐμήν·
μόχθου δὲ χάριν τήνδʼ ἐπιδώσω.
καίτοι τοκάδος δέργμα λεαίνης
ἀποταυροῦται δμωσίν, ὅταν τις
μῦθον προφέρων πέλας ὁρμηθῇ.
σκαιοὺς δὲ λέγων κοὐδέν τι σοφοὺς
τοὺς πρόσθε βροτοὺς οὐκ ἂν ἁμάρτοις,
οἵτινες ὕμνους ἐπὶ μὲν θαλίαις
ἐπί τʼ εἰλαπίναις καὶ παρὰ δείπνοις
ηὕροντο βίου τερπνὰς ἀκοάς·
NurseI’ll do it. But I’m afraid I won’t persuade
my mistress.
Still, I’ll take on the task as a favor to you.
And yet she glares at her servants
like a bull, like a lioness with cubs, whenever someone
comes near with something to say.
You wouldn’t be wrong to call the people of old
clumsy, and not clever at all:
they invented songs for festivals,
for banquets and for dinners,
sweet things for life to listen to.
στυγίους δὲ βροτῶν οὐδεὶς λύπας
ηὕρετο μούσῃ καὶ πολυχόρδοις
ᾠδαῖς παύειν, ἐξ ὧν θάνατοι
δειναί τε τύχαι σφάλλουσι δόμους.
καίτοι τάδε μὲν κέρδος ἀκεῖσθαι
μολπαῖσι βροτούς· ἵνα δʼ εὔδειπνοι
δαῖτες, τί μάτην τείνουσι βοήν;
τὸ παρὸν γὰρ ἔχει τέρψιν ἀφʼ αὑτοῦ
δαιτὸς πλήρωμα βροτοῖσιν.
But no mortal ever found a way
with music and many-stringed songs
to stop the hateful griefs that bring down houses
with deaths and terrible misfortunes.
And yet to heal these things with songs
would be gain for mortals. Where the feasting is rich,
why strain their voices for nothing?
The fullness of the feast itself
gives mortals all the pleasure they need.
Chorusἰαχὰν ἄιον πολύστονον γόων,
λιγυρὰ δʼ ἄχεα μογερὰ βοᾷ
τὸν ἐν λέχει προδόταν κακόνυμφον·
θεοκλυτεῖ δʼ ἄδικα παθοῦσα
τὰν Ζανὸς ὁρκίαν Θέμιν,
ἅ νιν ἔβασεν
Ἑλλάδʼ ἐς ἀντίπορον
διʼ ἅλα νύχιον ἐφʼ ἁλμυρὰν
πόντου κλῇδʼ ἀπέραντον.
ChorusI heard a cry thick with groans and weeping;
shrill and piercing she cries out her painful grief
at the traitor to her bed, the faithless husband.
Wronged, she calls the gods to witness,
Themis of oaths, Zeus’s Themis,
who brought her over
to Greece across the water,
through the night sea, to the salt
gateway of the endless deep.
First Episode
Medea speaks on the lot of women; Creon banishes her but grants one day; she plans murder.
MedeaΚορίνθιαι γυναῖκες, ἐξῆλθον δόμων,
μή μοί τι μέμψησθʼ· οἶδα γὰρ πολλοὺς βροτῶν
σεμνοὺς γεγῶτας, τοὺς μὲν ὀμμάτων ἄπο,
τοὺς δʼ ἐν θυραίοις· οἳ δʼ ἀφʼ ἡσύχου ποδὸς
δύσκλειαν ἐκτήσαντο καὶ ῥᾳθυμίαν.
δίκη γὰρ οὐκ ἔνεστιν ὀφθαλμοῖς βροτῶν,
ὅστις πρὶν ἀνδρὸς σπλάγχνον ἐκμαθεῖν σαφῶς
στυγεῖ δεδορκώς, οὐδὲν ἠδικημένος.
χρὴ δὲ ξένον μὲν κάρτα προσχωρεῖν πόλει·
οὐδʼ ἀστὸν ᾔνεσʼ ὅστις αὐθάδης γεγὼς
πικρὸς πολίταις ἐστὶν ἀμαθίας ὕπο.
MedeaWomen of Corinth, I’ve come out of the house so that you won’t find fault with me. I know many people who have been thought proud, some because they keep out of sight, others out in public; and those who go about quietly have earned a bad name for indifference. There’s no justice in human eyes: before someone has clearly learned what’s in a man’s heart, he hates him on sight, though he’s suffered no wrong from him. A foreigner, of course, must fit in completely with the city. But I don’t approve even of a citizen who is self-willed and offends his fellow citizens through lack of sense.
ἐμοὶ δʼ ἄελπτον πρᾶγμα προσπεσὸν τόδε
ψυχὴν διέφθαρκʼ· οἴχομαι δὲ καὶ βίου
χάριν μεθεῖσα κατθανεῖν χρῄζω, φίλαι.
ἐν ᾧ γὰρ ἦν μοι πάντα, γιγνώσκεις καλῶς,
κάκιστος ἀνδρῶν ἐκβέβηχʼ οὑμὸς πόσις.
πάντων δʼ ὅσʼ ἔστʼ ἔμψυχα καὶ γνώμην ἔχει
γυναῖκές ἐσμεν ἀθλιώτατον φυτόν·
ἃς πρῶτα μὲν δεῖ χρημάτων ὑπερβολῇ
πόσιν πρίασθαι δεσπότην τε σώματος
λαβεῖν· κακοῦ γὰρ τοῦτό γʼ ἄλγιον κακόν·
κἀν τῷδʼ ἀγὼν μέγιστος, ἢ κακὸν λαβεῖν
ἢ χρηστόν. οὐ γὰρ εὐκλεεῖς ἀπαλλαγαὶ
γυναιξίν, οὐδʼ οἷόν τʼ ἀνήνασθαι πόσιν.
But this blow has fallen on me out of nowhere and has destroyed my spirit. I’m finished. I’ve lost all joy in life, and I want to die, my friends. The man who was everything to me—you know it well—my husband, has turned out to be the worst of men. Of all the creatures that have life and mind, we women are the most wretched breed. First we have to buy a husband at an extravagant price, and take a master for our bodies; and that second evil is more painful than the first. And here’s the biggest gamble: whether we get a bad one or a good one. Divorce does a woman’s reputation no good, and she can’t refuse her husband.
εἰς καινὰ δʼ ἤθη καὶ νόμους ἀφιγμένην
δεῖ μάντιν εἶναι, μὴ μαθοῦσαν οἴκοθεν,
ὅτῳ μάλιστα χρήσεται συνευνέτῃ.
κἂν μὲν τάδʼ ἡμῖν ἐκπονουμέναισιν εὖ
πόσις ξυνοικῇ μὴ βίᾳ φέρων ζυγόν,
ζηλωτὸς αἰών· εἰ δὲ μή, θανεῖν χρεών.
ἀνὴρ δʼ ὅταν τοῖς ἔνδον ἄχθηται ξυνών,
ἔξω μολὼν ἔπαυσε καρδίαν ἄσης,
ἢ πρὸς φίλον τινʼ ἢ πρὸς ἥλικας τραπείς·
ἡμῖν δʼ ἀνάγκη πρὸς μίαν ψυχὴν βλέπειν.
She arrives among new ways and customs, and she has to be a prophet, since she hasn’t learned it at home, to know how best to manage the man she shares a bed with. If we work this out well and our husband lives with us and doesn’t chafe at the yoke, life is enviable. If not, death is better. When a man gets tired of being with the people at home, he goes out and relieves the weariness in his heart, turning to some friend or to men his own age. We have to look to one soul alone.
λέγουσι δʼ ἡμᾶς ὡς ἀκίνδυνον βίον
ζῶμεν κατʼ οἴκους, οἳ δὲ μάρνανται δορί·
κακῶς φρονοῦντες· ὡς τρὶς ἂν παρʼ ἀσπίδα
στῆναι θέλοιμʼ ἂν μᾶλλον ἢ τεκεῖν ἅπαξ.
ἀλλʼ οὐ γὰρ αὑτὸς πρὸς σὲ κἄμʼ ἥκει λόγος·
σοὶ μὲν πόλις γὰρ ἔστι καὶ πατρὸς δόμοι
βίου τʼ ὄνησις καὶ φίλων συνουσία,
ἐγὼ δʼ ἔρημος ἄπολις οὖσʼ ὑβρίζομαι
πρὸς ἀνδρός, ἐκ γῆς βαρβάρου λελῃσμένη,
οὐ μητέρʼ, οὐκ ἀδελφόν, οὐχὶ συγγενῆ
μεθορμίσασθαι τῆσδʼ ἔχουσα συμφορᾶς.
They say we live a life free from danger at home, while they fight with the spear. How wrong they are! I’d rather stand in the battle line three times than give birth once. But the same argument doesn’t apply to you and to me. You have a city here and your father’s home, the comforts of life and the company of friends. I’m alone, without a city, and I’m treated with contempt by my husband. I was carried off as plunder from a foreign land, and I have no mother, no brother, no relative to give me a harbor from this disaster.
τοσοῦτον οὖν σου τυγχάνειν βουλήσομαι,
ἤν μοι πόρος τις μηχανή τʼ ἐξευρεθῇ
πόσιν δίκην τῶνδʼ ἀντιτίσασθαι κακῶν
τὸν δόντα τʼ αὐτῷ θυγατέρʼ ἥν τʼ ἐγήματο,
σιγᾶν. γυνὴ γὰρ τἄλλα μὲν φόβου πλέα,
κακὴ δʼ ἐς ἀλκὴν καὶ σίδηρον εἰσορᾶν·
ὅταν δʼ ἐς εὐνὴν ἠδικημένη κυρῇ,
οὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλη φρὴν μιαιφονωτέρα.
So this is all I’ll ask of you. If I find some way, some means, of making my husband pay for these wrongs—and the man who gave him his daughter, and the woman he married—keep silent. In everything else a woman is full of fear, a coward when it comes to fighting or looking at steel. But when she is wronged in her marriage bed, there’s no mind more bloodthirsty.
Chorusδρᾶσον τάδʼ· ἐνδίκως γὰρ ἐκτίσει πόσιν,
Μήδεια. πενθεῖν δʼ οὔ σε θαυμάζω τύχας.
ὁρῶ δὲ καὶ Κρέοντα τῆσδʼ ἄνακτα γῆς
στείχοντα, καινῶν ἄγγελον βουλευμάτων.
ChorusDo it. You’ll be right to make your husband pay, Medea, and I’m not surprised you grieve over what’s happened to you. But I see Creon, too, the lord of this land, coming this way, with news of some new decision.
Creonσὲ τὴν σκυθρωπὸν καὶ πόσει θυμουμένην,
Μήδειαν, εἶπον τῆσδε γῆς ἔξω περᾶν
φυγάδα λαβοῦσαν δισσὰ σὺν σαυτῇ τέκνα,
καὶ μή τι μέλλειν· ὡς ἐγὼ βραβεὺς λόγου
τοῦδʼ εἰμὶ κοὐκ ἄπειμι πρὸς δόμους πάλιν,
πρὶν ἄν σε γαίας τερμόνων ἔξω βάλω.
CreonYou there, with your scowling face and your anger at your husband—Medea, I order you to leave this land as an exile, and take your two children with you, and don’t delay. I’m here to see this order carried out, and I won’t go back home until I’ve thrown you out beyond the borders of the country.
Medeaαἰαῖ· πανώλης ἡ τάλαινʼ ἀπόλλυμαι.
ἐχθροὶ γὰρ ἐξιᾶσι πάντα δὴ κάλων,
κοὐκ ἔστιν ἄτης εὐπρόσοιστος ἔκβασις.
ἐρήσομαι δὲ καὶ κακῶς πάσχουσʼ ὅμως,
τίνος μʼ ἕκατι γῆς ἀποστέλλεις, Κρέον;
MedeaAh! I’m lost, utterly ruined. My enemies are bearing down on me under full sail, and there’s no easy landing to escape this disaster. Still, badly treated as I am, I’ll ask you: why are you sending me out of the country, Creon?
Creonδέδοικά σʼ, οὐδὲν δεῖ παραμπέχειν λόγους,
μή μοί τι δράσῃς παῖδʼ ἀνήκεστον κακόν.
συμβάλλεται δὲ πολλὰ τοῦδε δείματος·
σοφὴ πέφυκας καὶ κακῶν πολλῶν ἴδρις,
λυπεῖ δὲ λέκτρων ἀνδρὸς ἐστερημένη.
κλύω δʼ ἀπειλεῖν σʼ, ὡς ἀπαγγέλλουσί μοι,
τὸν δόντα καὶ γήμαντα καὶ γαμουμένην
δράσειν τι. ταῦτʼ οὖν πρὶν παθεῖν φυλάξομαι.
κρεῖσσον δέ μοι νῦν πρὸς σʼ ἀπεχθέσθαι, γύναι,
ἢ μαλθακισθένθʼ ὕστερον μεταστένειν.
CreonI’m afraid of you—there’s no need to dress it up—afraid you’ll do my daughter some harm that can’t be undone. Plenty of things feed this fear. You’re clever by nature and skilled in many evil arts, and you’re smarting at the loss of your husband’s bed. I hear that you’re making threats, so I’m told, to do something to the man who gave the bride, the groom and the bride herself. So I’ll take precautions before anything happens to me. Better to be hated by you now, lady, than to go soft and groan for it later.
Medeaφεῦ φεῦ·
οὐ νῦν με πρῶτον, ἀλλὰ πολλάκις, Κρέον,
ἔβλαψε δόξα μεγάλα τʼ εἴργασται κακά.
χρὴ δʼ οὔποθʼ ὅστις ἀρτίφρων πέφυκʼ ἀνὴρ
παῖδας περισσῶς ἐκδιδάσκεσθαι σοφούς·
χωρὶς γὰρ ἄλλης ἧς ἔχουσιν ἀργίας
φθόνον πρὸς ἀστῶν ἀλφάνουσι δυσμενῆ.
σκαιοῖσι μὲν γὰρ καινὰ προσφέρων σοφὰ
δόξεις ἀχρεῖος κοὐ σοφὸς πεφυκέναι·
τῶν δʼ αὖ δοκούντων εἰδέναι τι ποικίλον
κρείσσων νομισθεὶς λυπρὸς ἐν πόλει φανεῖ.
MedeaAh, ah. Not for the first time, Creon, but many times, my reputation has hurt me and done me great harm. No man with any sense should ever have his children taught to be exceptionally clever. Quite apart from being called idle, they earn the hostile envy of their fellow citizens. Bring new cleverness to fools, and you’ll seem useless, not clever. And if people think you’re superior to those who are supposed to know something subtle, the city will find you offensive.
ἐγὼ δὲ καὐτὴ τῆσδε κοινωνῶ τύχης.
σοφὴ γὰρ οὖσα, τοῖς μέν εἰμʼ ἐπίφθονος,
τοῖς δʼ ἡσυχαία, τοῖς δὲ θατέρου τρόπου,
τοῖσδʼ αὖ προσάντης· εἰμὶ δʼ οὐκ ἄγαν σοφή.
σὺ δʼ αὖ φοβεῖ με· μή τι πλημμελὲς πάθῃς;
οὐχ ὧδʼ ἔχει μοι, μὴ τρέσῃς ἡμᾶς, Κρέον,
ὥστʼ εἰς τυράννους ἄνδρας ἐξαμαρτάνειν.
τί γὰρ σύ μʼ ἠδίκηκας; ἐξέδου κόρην
ὅτῳ σε θυμὸς ἦγεν. ἀλλʼ ἐμὸν πόσιν
μισῶ· σὺ δʼ, οἶμαι, σωφρονῶν ἔδρας τάδε.
I share this fate myself. Because I’m clever, some envy me, others find me retiring, others the opposite, and others again find me a nuisance. And I’m not all that clever. And you—you’re afraid of me? That you might suffer something unpleasant? Don’t be afraid of me, Creon. I’m in no position to offend against kings. Besides, what wrong have you done me? You gave your daughter to the man your heart chose. It’s my husband I hate. You, I think, acted sensibly in this.
καὶ νῦν τὸ μὲν σὸν οὐ φθονῶ καλῶς ἔχειν.
νυμφεύετʼ, εὖ πράσσοιτε· τήνδε δὲ χθόνα
ἐᾶτέ μʼ οἰκεῖν· καὶ γὰρ ἠδικημένοι
σιγησόμεσθα, κρεισσόνων νικώμενοι.
And I don’t begrudge you your good fortune now. Go ahead with the marriage, and good luck to you all. But let me live in this land. Though I’ve been wronged, I’ll keep quiet, beaten by those who are stronger.
Creonλέγεις ἀκοῦσαι μαλθάκʼ, ἀλλʼ εἴσω φρενῶν
ὀρρωδία μοι μή τι βουλεύῃς κακόν,
τοσῷδε δʼ ἧσσον ἢ πάρος πέποιθά σοι·
γυνὴ γὰρ ὀξύθυμος, ὣς δʼ αὔτως ἀνήρ,
ῥᾴων φυλάσσειν ἢ σιωπηλὸς σοφός.
ἀλλʼ ἔξιθʼ ὡς τάχιστα, μὴ λόγους λέγε·
ὡς ταῦτʼ ἄραρε, κοὐκ ἔχεις τέχνην ὅπως
μενεῖς παρʼ ἡμῖν οὖσα δυσμενὴς ἐμοί.
CreonWhat you say sounds gentle enough, but deep in my mind I dread that you’re plotting some harm, and I trust you even less than before. A hot-tempered woman—and the same goes for a man—is easier to guard against than a clever one who keeps quiet. Out, as fast as you can; no speeches. It’s settled, and you have no way of staying among us, since you’re hostile to me.
Medeaμή, πρός σε γονάτων τῆς τε νεογάμου κόρης.
MedeaNo, I beg you, by your knees and by your newly married daughter!
Creonλόγους ἀναλοῖς· οὐ γὰρ οὖν πείσεις ποτέ.
CreonYou’re wasting words. You’ll never persuade me.
Medeaἀλλʼ ἐξελᾷς με κοὐδὲν αἰδέσει λιτάς;
MedeaSo you’ll drive me out, and show no respect for my prayers?
Creonπλὴν γὰρ τέκνων ἔμοιγε φίλτατον πόλις.
CreonYes—after my children, my city’s dearest to me too.
Creonὅπως ἄν, οἶμαι, καὶ παραστῶσιν τύχαι.
CreonThat depends, I imagine, on how fortune goes along with it.
MedeaΖεῦ, μὴ λάθοι σε τῶνδʼ ὃς αἴτιος κακῶν.
MedeaZeus, don’t let the man who caused all this escape your notice!
Creonἕρπʼ ὦ ματαία, καί μʼ ἀπάλλαξον πόνων.
CreonGo, you foolish woman, and spare me the trouble.
Medeaφευξούμεθʼ· οὐ τοῦθʼ ἱκέτευσα σοῦ τυχεῖν.
MedeaI’ll go into exile. That isn’t what I was begging you for.
Creonτί δʼ αὖ βιάζει κοὐκ ἀπαλλάσσει χθονός;
CreonThen why are you still pressing me, instead of leaving the country?
Medeaμίαν με μεῖναι τήνδʼ ἔασον ἡμέραν
καὶ ξυμπερᾶναι φροντίδʼ ᾗ φευξούμεθα,
παισίν τʼ ἀφορμὴν τοῖς ἐμοῖς, ἐπεὶ πατὴρ
οὐδὲν προτιμᾷ μηχανήσασθαι τέκνοις.
οἴκτειρε δʼ αὐτούς· καὶ σύ τοι παίδων πατὴρ
πέφυκας· εἰκὸς δʼ ἐστὶν εὔνοιάν σʼ ἔχειν.
τοὐμοῦ γὰρ οὔ μοι φροντίς, εἰ φευξούμεθα,
κείνους δὲ κλαίω συμφορᾷ κεχρημένους.
MedeaLet me stay just this one day, to think through where we’ll go in exile and how to provide for my children, since their father doesn’t care to do anything for them. Pity them. You’re a father of children yourself, after all; it’s only natural that you should feel kindly toward them. I’m not worried for myself, about going into exile. It’s them I weep for, caught up in this disaster.
Creonἥκιστα τοὐμὸν λῆμʼ ἔφυ τυραννικόν,
αἰδούμενος δὲ πολλὰ δὴ διέφθορα·
καὶ νῦν ὁρῶ μὲν ἐξαμαρτάνων, γύναι,
ὅμως δὲ τεύξει τοῦδε· προυννέπω δέ σοι,
εἴ σʼ ἡ ʼπιοῦσα λαμπὰς ὄψεται θεοῦ
καὶ παῖδας ἐντὸς τῆσδε τερμόνων χθονός,
θανεῖ· λέλεκται μῦθος ἀψευδὴς ὅδε.
νῦν δʼ, εἰ μένειν δεῖ, μίμνʼ ἐφʼ ἡμέραν μίαν·
οὐ γάρ τι δράσαις δεινὸν ὧν φόβος μʼ ἔχει.
CreonMy temper is anything but a tyrant’s, and by giving way to scruples I’ve ruined a great deal. Even now I can see I’m making a mistake, lady, but you’ll have your way all the same. But I warn you: if the god’s torch, as it rises tomorrow, sees you and your children inside the borders of this land, you will die. I’ve said it, and it’s no lie. Now, if you must stay, stay for one day. You can’t do any of the terrible things I fear in that time.
Chorusδύστανε γύναι,
φεῦ φεῦ, μελέα τῶν σῶν ἀχέων.
ποῖ ποτε τρέψει; τίνα προξενίαν
ἢ δόμον ἢ χθόνα σωτῆρα κακῶν
ἐξευρήσεις;
ὡς εἰς ἄπορόν σε κλύδωνα θεός,
Μήδεια, κακῶν ἐπόρευσε.
ChorusUnhappy woman,
ah, ah, wretched in your sorrows!
Where will you turn? What welcome,
what house or land will you find
to save you from your troubles?
Medea, into what a surging sea of troubles,
with no way through, a god has driven you!
Medeaκακῶς πέπρακται πανταχῇ· τίς ἀντερεῖ;
ἀλλʼ οὔτι ταύτῃ ταῦτα, μὴ δοκεῖτέ πω.
ἔτʼ εἴσʼ ἀγῶνες τοῖς νεωστὶ νυμφίοις
καὶ τοῖσι κηδεύσασιν οὐ σμικροὶ πόνοι.
δοκεῖς γὰρ ἄν με τόνδε θωπεῦσαί ποτε,
εἰ μή τι κερδαίνουσαν ἢ τεχνωμένην;
οὐδʼ ἂν προσεῖπον οὐδʼ ἂν ἡψάμην χεροῖν.
ὃ δʼ εἰς τοσοῦτον μωρίας ἀφίκετο
ὥστʼ ἐξὸν αὐτῷ τἄμʼ ἑλεῖν βουλεύματα
γῆς ἐκβαλόντι, τήνδʼ ἐφῆκεν ἡμέραν
μεῖναί μʼ, ἐν ᾗ τρεῖς τῶν ἐμῶν ἐχθρῶν νεκροὺς
θήσω, πατέρα τε καὶ κόρην πόσιν τʼ ἐμόν.
MedeaThings have gone badly on every side; who would deny it? But it won’t end like this, don’t think so yet. There are still ordeals ahead for the newlyweds, and no small troubles for the ones who made the match. Do you think I would ever have fawned on that man if I weren’t gaining something by it, or scheming? I wouldn’t even have spoken to him, or touched him with my hands. But he has gone so far in his folly that, when he could have wrecked my plans by throwing me out of the country, he has let me stay for this one day. And in it I will make corpses of three of my enemies: the father, the girl and my husband.
πολλὰς δʼ ἔχουσα θανασίμους αὐτοῖς ὁδούς,
οὐκ οἶδʼ ὁποίᾳ πρῶτον ἐγχειρῶ, φίλαι,
πότερον ὑφάψω δῶμα νυμφικὸν πυρί,
ἢ θηκτὸν ὤσω φάσγανον διʼ ἥπατος,
σιγῇ δόμους εἰσβᾶσʼ ἵνʼ ἔστρωται λέχος.
ἀλλʼ ἕν τί μοι πρόσαντες· εἰ ληφθήσομαι
δόμους ὑπερβαίνουσα καὶ τεχνωμένη,
θανοῦσα θήσω τοῖς ἐμοῖς ἐχθροῖς γέλων.
κράτιστα τὴν εὐθεῖαν, ᾗ πεφύκαμεν
σοφαὶ μάλιστα, φαρμάκοις αὐτοὺς ἑλεῖν.
I have many ways of killing them, and I don’t know which to try first, my friends. Shall I set fire to the bridal house? Or slip silently into the house where the bed is spread and drive a sharpened sword through the liver? But there’s one thing against me. If I’m caught entering the house and scheming, I’ll die and give my enemies something to laugh at. Best to take the straight road, the one we’re cleverest at by nature: get them with poison.
εἶεν·
καὶ δὴ τεθνᾶσι· τίς με δέξεται πόλις;
τίς γῆν ἄσυλον καὶ δόμους ἐχεγγύους
ξένος παρασχὼν ῥύσεται τοὐμὸν δέμας;
οὐκ ἔστι. μείνασʼ οὖν ἔτι σμικρὸν χρόνον,
ἢν μέν τις ἡμῖν πύργος ἀσφαλὴς φανῇ,
δόλῳ μέτειμι τόνδε καὶ σιγῇ φόνον·
ἢν δʼ ἐξελαύνῃ ξυμφορά μʼ ἀμήχανος,
αὐτὴ ξίφος λαβοῦσα, κεἰ μέλλω θανεῖν,
κτενῶ σφε, τόλμης δʼ εἶμι πρὸς τὸ καρτερόν.
So. Suppose they’re dead. What city will take me in? What host will offer me a land of refuge and a house I can rely on, and protect me? There’s none. So I’ll wait a little longer. If some tower of safety appears for me, I’ll go about this murder by trickery and in silence. But if some hopeless misfortune drives me out, I’ll take the sword in my own hand and kill them, even if I’m going to die for it. I’ll go to the very limit of daring.
οὐ γὰρ μὰ τὴν δέσποιναν ἣν ἐγὼ σέβω
μάλιστα πάντων καὶ ξυνεργὸν εἱλόμην,
Ἑκάτην μυχοῖς ναίουσαν ἑστίας ἐμῆς,
χαίρων τις αὐτῶν τοὐμὸν ἀλγυνεῖ κέαρ.
πικροὺς δʼ ἐγώ σφιν καὶ λυγροὺς θήσω γάμους,
πικρὸν δὲ κῆδος καὶ φυγὰς ἐμὰς χθονός.
ἀλλʼ εἶα· φείδου μηδὲν ὧν ἐπίστασαι,
Μήδεια, βουλεύουσα καὶ τεχνωμένη·
ἕρπʼ εἰς τὸ δεινόν· νῦν ἀγὼν εὐψυχίας.
For by the mistress I revere above all others and have chosen as my helper, Hecate, who dwells in the inmost recesses of my hearth, not one of them will hurt my heart and get away happy. I’ll make their marriage bitter and full of grief for them, bitter the alliance, and bitter my banishment from the land. Come on, Medea: hold back nothing you know as you plan and scheme. On to the terrible deed. Now it’s a test of courage.
ὁρᾷς ἃ πάσχεις; οὐ γέλωτα δεῖ σʼ ὀφλεῖν
τοῖς Σισυφείοις τοῖς τʼ Ἰάσονος γάμοις,
γεγῶσαν ἐσθλοῦ πατρὸς Ἡλίου τʼ ἄπο.
ἐπίστασαι δέ· πρὸς δὲ καὶ πεφύκαμεν
γυναῖκες εἰς μὲν ἔσθλʼ ἀμηχανώταται,
κακῶν δὲ πάντων τέκτονες σοφώταται.
You see what’s being done to you. You mustn’t become a laughingstock for this marriage of Jason’s into the line of Sisyphus—you, a noble father’s daughter, descended from the Sun. You have the skill. And besides, we women are born the most helpless at doing good, but the cleverest builders of every kind of evil.
First Stasimon
The Chorus sings that the world is turned around: now men break faith, and women will be honored.
Chorusἄνω ποταμῶν ἱερῶν χωροῦσι παγαί,
καὶ δίκα καὶ πάντα πάλιν στρέφεται.
ἀνδράσι μὲν δόλιαι βουλαί, θεῶν δʼ
οὐκέτι πίστις ἄραρε.
τὰν δʼ ἐμὰν εὔκλειαν ἔχειν βιοτὰν
στρέψουσι φᾶμαι·
ἔρχεται τιμὰ γυναικείῳ γένει·
οὐκέτι δυσκέλαδος φάμα γυναῖκας ἕξει.
μοῦσαι δὲ παλαιγενέων λήξουσʼ ἀοιδᾶν
τὰν ἐμὰν ὑμνεῦσαι ἀπιστοσύναν.
οὐ γὰρ ἐν ἁμετέρᾳ γνώμᾳ λύρας
ὤπασε θέσπιν ἀοιδὰν
Φοῖβος, ἁγήτωρ μελέων· ἐπεὶ ἀντάχησʼ
ἂν ὕμνον
ἀρσένων γέννᾳ· μακρὸς δʼ αἰὼν ἔχει
πολλὰ μὲν ἁμετέραν ἀνδρῶν τε μοῖραν εἰπεῖν.
ChorusBack to their sources flow the sacred rivers,
and justice and everything is turned around.
It’s men whose plans are treacherous; pledges sworn by the gods
hold firm no longer.
Report will turn, and give my life
a good name.
Honor is coming to the race of women;
no more will ugly rumor hold women in its grip.
The Muses of the old poets will stop
singing of my faithlessness.
For it was not on our minds
that Phoebus, leader of songs,
bestowed the lyre’s inspired music;
or I would have sung a hymn in answer
to the race of men. The long ages
have much to tell of our lot, and of men’s.
σὺ δʼ ἐκ μὲν οἴκων πατρίων ἔπλευσας
μαινομένᾳ κραδίᾳ, διδύμας ὁρίσασα πόντου
πέτρας· ἐπὶ δὲ ξένᾳ
ναίεις χθονί, τᾶς ἀνάνδρου
κοίτας ὀλέσασα λέκτρον,
τάλαινα, φυγὰς δὲ χώρας
ἄτιμος ἐλαύνει.
βέβακε δʼ ὅρκων χάρις, οὐδʼ ἔτʼ αἰδὼς
Ἑλλάδι τᾷ μεγάλᾳ μένει, αἰθερία δʼ ἀνέπτα.
σοὶ δʼ οὔτε πατρὸς δόμοι,
δύστανε, μεθορμίσασθαι
μόχθων πάρα, σῶν τε λέκτρων
ἄλλα βασίλεια κρείσσων
δόμοις ἐπανέστα.
You sailed from your father’s house
with a maddened heart, passing between the twin rocks
of the sea. Now you live
in a foreign land; you’ve lost your marriage,
your bed left without a husband,
poor woman, and you’re driven out of the country,
an exile, without honor.
The grace of oaths is gone; shame
no longer stays in great Greece but has flown off into the sky.
You have no father’s house,
unhappy woman, to harbor you
from your troubles, and another, a princess,
mightier than you, has risen
over the house in place of your bed.
Second Episode
Jason offers money for her exile; Medea recalls all she did for him, and they argue.
Jasonοὐ νῦν κατεῖδον πρῶτον ἀλλὰ πολλάκις
τραχεῖαν ὀργὴν ὡς ἀμήχανον κακόν.
σοὶ γὰρ παρὸν γῆν τήνδε καὶ δόμους ἔχειν
κούφως φερούσῃ κρεισσόνων βουλεύματα,
λόγων ματαίων εἵνεκʼ ἐκπεσεῖ χθονός.
κἀμοὶ μὲν οὐδὲν πρᾶγμα· μὴ παύσῃ ποτὲ
λέγουσʼ Ἰάσων ὡς κάκιστός ἐστʼ ἀνήρ·
ἃ δʼ εἰς τυράννους ἐστί σοι λελεγμένα,
πᾶν κέρδος ἡγοῦ ζημιουμένη φυγῇ.
JasonThis isn’t the first time—I’ve seen it many times before: what an impossible evil a fierce temper is. You could have kept this land and this house if you’d taken the decisions of those in power calmly. Instead, for the sake of foolish talk, you’ll be thrown out of the country. To me it makes no difference: never stop saying Jason is the worst of men. But for what you’ve said against the royal family, count yourself lucky that your punishment is only exile.
κἀγὼ μὲν ἀεὶ βασιλέων θυμουμένων
ὀργὰς ἀφῄρουν καί σʼ ἐβουλόμην μένειν·
σὺ δʼ οὐκ ἀνίεις μωρίας, λέγουσʼ ἀεὶ
κακῶς τυράννους· τοιγὰρ ἐκπεσεῖ χθονός.
ὅμως δὲ κἀκ τῶνδʼ οὐκ ἀπειρηκὼς φίλοις
ἥκω, τὸ σὸν δὲ προσκοπούμενος, γύναι,
ὡς μήτʼ ἀχρήμων σὺν τέκνοισιν ἐκπέσῃς
μήτʼ ἐνδεής του. πόλλʼ ἐφέλκεται φυγὴ
κακὰ ξὺν αὑτῇ. καὶ γὰρ εἰ σύ με στυγεῖς,
οὐκ ἂν δυναίμην σοὶ κακῶς φρονεῖν ποτε.
I was always trying to soothe the anger of the royal family when they were furious, and I wanted you to stay. But you wouldn’t give up your folly, always speaking ill of the rulers. So you’ll be thrown out of the country. Still, even after all this, I haven’t given up on my own. I’ve come looking out for your interests, Medea, so that you won’t be thrown out with the children without money, or short of anything. Exile drags many evils along with it. And even if you hate me, I could never wish you harm.
Medeaὦ παγκάκιστε, τοῦτο γάρ σʼ εἰπεῖν ἔχω
γλώσσῃ μέγιστον εἰς ἀνανδρίαν κακόν,
ἦλθες πρὸς ἡμᾶς, ἦλθες ἔχθιστος γεγώς;
θεοῖς τε κἀμοὶ παντί τʼ ἀνθρώπων γένει;
οὔτοι θράσος τόδʼ ἐστὶν οὐδʼ εὐτολμία,
φίλους κακῶς δράσαντʼ ἐναντίον βλέπειν,
ἀλλʼ ἡ μεγίστη τῶν ἐν ἀνθρώποις νόσων
πασῶν, ἀναίδειʼ· εὖ δʼ ἐποίησας μολών,
ἐγώ τε γὰρ λέξασα κουφισθήσομαι
ψυχὴν κακῶς σε καὶ σὺ λυπήσει κλύων.
ἐκ τῶν δὲ πρώτων πρῶτον ἄρξομαι λέγειν.
MedeaYou vilest of men! That’s the worst word my tongue can find for your lack of manhood. You’ve come to us? You’ve come, when you’ve made yourself the bitterest enemy of the gods and of me and of the whole human race? This isn’t boldness, or courage, to look your own people in the face after doing them harm. It’s the worst of all the diseases human beings suffer from: shamelessness. But you did well to come. I’ll lighten the weight on my soul by telling you what you are, and you’ll be hurt to hear it. I’ll begin at the very beginning.
ἔσωσά σʼ, ὡς ἴσασιν Ἑλλήνων ὅσοι
ταὐτὸν συνεισέβησαν Ἀργῷον σκάφος,
πεμφθέντα ταύρων πυρπνόων ἐπιστάτην
ζεύγλαισι καὶ σπεροῦντα θανάσιμον γύην·
δράκοντά θʼ, ὃς πάγχρυσον ἀμπέχων δέρας
σπείραις ἔσωζε πολυπλόκοις ἄυπνος ὤν,
κτείνασʼ ἀνέσχον σοὶ φάος σωτήριον.
αὐτὴ δὲ πατέρα καὶ δόμους προδοῦσʼ ἐμοὺς
τὴν Πηλιῶτιν εἰς Ἰωλκὸν ἱκόμην
σὺν σοί, πρόθυμος μᾶλλον ἢ σοφωτέρα,
Πελίαν τʼ ἀπέκτεινʼ, ὥσπερ ἄλγιστον θανεῖν,
παίδων ὑπʼ αὐτοῦ, πάντα δʼ ἐξεῖλον φόβον.
I saved you, as every Greek who went aboard the Argo with you knows, when you were sent to master the fire-breathing bulls with the yoke and to sow the field of death. And the serpent that guarded the all-golden fleece, wrapped around it in its many twisting coils, never sleeping: I killed it, and held up for you the light of rescue. I myself betrayed my father and my home and came with you to Iolcus under Mount Pelion, more eager than clever. And I killed Pelias in the most painful way there is to die, at the hands of his own daughters, and rid you of every fear.
καὶ ταῦθʼ ὑφʼ ἡμῶν, ὦ κάκιστʼ ἀνδρῶν, παθὼν
προύδωκας ἡμᾶς, καινὰ δʼ ἐκτήσω λέχη,
παίδων γεγώτων· εἰ γὰρ ἦσθʼ ἄπαις ἔτι,
συγγνωστὸν ἦν σοι τοῦδʼ ἐρασθῆναι λέχους.
ὅρκων δὲ φρούδη πίστις, οὐδʼ ἔχω μαθεῖν
εἰ θεοὺς νομίζεις τοὺς τότʼ οὐκ ἄρχειν ἔτι,
ἢ καινὰ κεῖσθαι θέσμιʼ ἀνθρώποις τὰ νῦν,
ἐπεὶ σύνοισθά γʼ εἰς ἔμʼ οὐκ εὔορκος ὤν.
φεῦ δεξιὰ χεὶρ ἧς σὺ πόλλʼ ἐλαμβάνου,
καὶ τῶνδε γονάτων, ὡς μάτην κεχρώσμεθα
κακοῦ πρὸς ἀνδρός, ἐλπίδων δʼ ἡμάρτομεν.
And after all this from me, you worst of men, you betrayed us and got yourself a new bed, though we had children! If you were still childless, falling in love with this marriage would be forgivable. The faith of your oaths is gone. I can’t make out whether you think the gods of those days no longer rule, or that new laws have been laid down for people now, since you know you’ve broken your oath to me. Ah, this right hand, which you clasped so often, and these knees: how pointless it was to be touched by a bad man, and how we were cheated of our hopes!
ἄγʼ, ὡς φίλῳ γὰρ ὄντι σοι κοινώσομαι,
δοκοῦσα μὲν τί πρός γε σοῦ πράξειν καλῶς;
ὅμως δʼ· ἐρωτηθεὶς γὰρ αἰσχίων φανεῖ.
νῦν ποῖ τράπωμαι; πότερα πρὸς πατρὸς δόμους,
οὓς σοὶ προδοῦσα καὶ πάτραν ἀφικόμην;
ἢ πρὸς ταλαίνας Πελιάδας; καλῶς γʼ ἂν οὖν
δέξαιντό μʼ οἴκοις ὧν πατέρα κατέκτανον.
ἔχει γὰρ οὕτω· τοῖς μὲν οἴκοθεν φίλοις
ἐχθρὰ καθέστηχʼ, οὓς δέ μʼ οὐκ ἐχρῆν κακῶς
δρᾶν, σοὶ χάριν φέρουσα πολεμίους ἔχω.
Come, I’ll consult you as though you were a friend—not that I expect any good from you, of all people. Still, I will: questioned, you’ll look even more shameful. Where am I to turn now? To my father’s house, which I betrayed for you, along with my country, when I came here? Or to Pelias’ poor daughters? They’d give me a fine welcome in their home, when I killed their father! This is how it stands. To my own people at home I’ve become an enemy, and those I should never have harmed I’ve made my enemies as a favor to you.
τοιγάρ με πολλαῖς μακαρίαν ἀνʼ Ἑλλάδα
ἔθηκας ἀντὶ τῶνδε· θαυμαστὸν δέ σε
ἔχω πόσιν καὶ σεπτὸν ἡ τάλαινʼ ἐγώ,
εἰ φεύξομαί γε γαῖαν ἐκβεβλημένη,
φίλων ἔρημος, σὺν τέκνοις μόνη μόνοις,
καλόν γʼ ὄνειδος τῷ νεωστὶ νυμφίῳ,
πτωχοὺς ἀλᾶσθαι παῖδας ἥ τʼ ἔσωσά σε.
ὦ Ζεῦ, τί δὴ χρυσοῦ μὲν ὃς κίβδηλος ᾖ
τεκμήριʼ ἀνθρώποισιν ὤπασας σαφῆ,
ἀνδρῶν δʼ ὅτῳ χρὴ τὸν κακὸν διειδέναι,
οὐδεὶς χαρακτὴρ ἐμπέφυκε σώματι;
And in return for all this you’ve made me so blessed in the eyes of so many Greek women! What a marvelous, what a revered husband I have, wretch that I am, if I’m to go into exile, thrown out of the land, with no friends, alone with my children, all alone! A fine reproach for the new bridegroom, that his children wander as beggars, and the woman who saved him too. Zeus, why did you give mankind clear signs to tell which gold is counterfeit, but no mark stamped on the body to show which man is bad?
Chorusδεινή τις ὀργὴ καὶ δυσίατος πέλει,
ὅταν φίλοι φίλοισι συμβάλωσʼ ἔριν.
ChorusIt’s a terrible kind of anger, and hard to cure, when people who love each other clash in a quarrel.
Jasonδεῖ μʼ, ὡς ἔοικε, μὴ κακὸν φῦναι λέγειν,
ἀλλʼ ὥστε ναὸς κεδνὸν οἰακοστρόφον
ἄκροισι λαίφους κρασπέδοις ὑπεκδραμεῖν
τὴν σὴν στόμαργον, ὦ γύναι, γλωσσαλγίαν.
ἐγὼ δʼ, ἐπεὶ σὴν καὶ λίαν πυργοῖς χάριν,
Κύπριν νομίζω τῆς ἐμῆς σωτηρίας
ναύκληρον εἶναι θεῶν τε κἀνθρώπων μόνην.
σοὶ δʼ ἔστι μὲν νοῦς λεπτός, ἀλλʼ ἐπίφθονος
λόγος διελθεῖν, ὡς Ἔρως σʼ ἠνάγκασε
τόξοις ἀφύκτοις τοὐμὸν ἐκσῶσαι δέμας.
ἀλλʼ οὐκ ἀκριβῶς αὐτὸ θήσομαι λίαν·
JasonIt seems I mustn’t be a poor speaker. Like a careful helmsman, I’ll have to run before the storm of your ranting tongue, lady, with just the edge of my sail. As for me, since you’re building your kindness into such a tower, I believe Aphrodite alone, of gods and men, was the captain of my rescue. You have a subtle mind, but it would be an invidious story to tell: how Eros forced you with his inescapable arrows to save my life. Still, I won’t make the reckoning too precise.
ὅπῃ γὰρ οὖν ὤνησας, οὐ κακῶς ἔχει.
μείζω γε μέντοι τῆς ἐμῆς σωτηρίας
εἴληφας ἢ δέδωκας, ὡς ἐγὼ φράσω.
πρῶτον μὲν Ἑλλάδʼ ἀντὶ βαρβάρου χθονὸς
γαῖαν κατοικεῖς καὶ δίκην ἐπίστασαι
νόμοις τε χρῆσθαι μὴ πρὸς ἰσχύος κράτος·
πάντες δέ σʼ ᾔσθοντʼ οὖσαν Ἕλληνες σοφὴν
καὶ δόξαν ἔσχες· εἰ δὲ γῆς ἐπʼ ἐσχάτοις
ὅροισιν ᾤκεις, οὐκ ἂν ἦν λόγος σέθεν.
εἴη δʼ ἔμοιγε μήτε χρυσὸς ἐν δόμοις
μήτʼ Ὀρφέως κάλλιον ὑμνῆσαι μέλος,
εἰ μὴ ʼπίσημος ἡ τύχη γένοιτό μοι.
Whatever help you gave, it served well enough. But you’ve received more from my rescue than you gave, as I’ll explain. First, instead of a foreign land you live in Greece, and you know justice and how to live by laws, not by the rule of force. All the Greeks have come to know that you’re clever, and you’ve won a reputation. If you lived at the farthest ends of the earth, no one would talk about you. For my part, I’d want neither gold in my house nor the power to sing a sweeter song than Orpheus if my fortune weren’t going to make me famous.
τοσαῦτα μέν σοι τῶν ἐμῶν πόνων πέρι
ἔλεξʼ· ἅμιλλαν γὰρ σὺ προύθηκας λόγων.
ἃ δʼ εἰς γάμους μοι βασιλικοὺς ὠνείδισας,
ἐν τῷδε δείξω πρῶτα μὲν σοφὸς γεγώς,
ἔπειτα σώφρων, εἶτα σοὶ μέγας φίλος
καὶ παισὶ τοῖς ἐμοῖσιν· ἀλλʼ ἔχʼ ἥσυχος.
ἐπεὶ μετέστην δεῦρʼ Ἰωλκίας χθονὸς
πολλὰς ἐφέλκων συμφορὰς ἀμηχάνους,
τί τοῦδʼ ἂν εὕρημʼ ηὗρον εὐτυχέστερον
ἢ παῖδα γῆμαι βασιλέως φυγὰς γεγώς;
οὐχ, ᾗ σὺ κνίζει, σὸν μὲν ἐχθαίρων λέχος,
καινῆς δὲ νύμφης ἱμέρῳ πεπληγμένος,
οὐδʼ εἰς ἅμιλλαν πολύτεκνον σπουδὴν ἔχων·
That’s all I have to say about my own trials; you’re the one who set up this contest of words. As for your reproaches about my royal marriage, I’ll show that in this I’ve been, first, clever; second, sensible; and third, a great friend to you and to my children. Just hold your peace. When I moved here from the land of Iolcus, dragging a load of hopeless misfortunes behind me, what luckier find could I have found than to marry a king’s daughter, exile that I was? It’s not, as you’re so sore about, that I hated your bed and was struck with longing for a new bride, or that I was eager to compete in having lots of children.
ἅλις γὰρ οἱ γεγῶτες οὐδὲ μέμφομαι·
ἀλλʼ ὡς τὸ μὲν μέγιστον οἰκοῖμεν καλῶς
καὶ μὴ σπανιζοίμεσθα, γιγνώσκων ὅτι
πένητα φεύγει πᾶς τις ἐκποδὼν φίλος,
παῖδας δὲ θρέψαιμʼ ἀξίως δόμων ἐμῶν
σπείρας τʼ ἀδελφοὺς τοῖσιν ἐκ σέθεν τέκνοις
εἰς ταὐτὸ θείην καὶ ξυναρτήσας γένος
εὐδαιμονοίην. σοί τε γὰρ παίδων τί δεῖ,
ἐμοί τε λύει τοῖσι μέλλουσιν τέκνοις
τὰ ζῶντʼ ὀνῆσαι. μῶν βεβούλευμαι κακῶς;
οὐδʼ ἂν σὺ φαίης, εἴ σε μὴ κνίζοι λέχος.
The ones we have are enough, and I have no complaint. No, it was so that, first and foremost, we could live well and not be in want, since I know that every friend gets out of a poor man’s way. And so that I could bring up the children as my house deserves, father brothers for the children I had by you, put them on the same footing, unite the family, and prosper. What need do you have of more children? While for me it pays to help the children I have through the ones to come. Have I planned badly? Not even you would say so, if the bed weren’t rankling you.
ἀλλʼ εἰς τοσοῦτον ἥκεθʼ ὥστʼ ὀρθουμένης
εὐνῆς γυναῖκες πάντʼ ἔχειν νομίζετε,
ἢν δʼ αὖ γένηται ξυμφορά τις εἰς λέχος,
τὰ λῷστα καὶ κάλλιστα πολεμιώτατα
τίθεσθε. χρῆν ἄρʼ ἄλλοθέν ποθεν βροτοὺς
παῖδας τεκνοῦσθαι, θῆλυ δʼ οὐκ εἶναι γένος·
χοὔτως ἂν οὐκ ἦν οὐδὲν ἀνθρώποις κακόν.
But you women have come to such a pass that if your bed is going well you think you have everything, and if some misfortune touches your bed, you treat the best and finest things as your worst enemies. Mortals ought to get their children from some other source, and there should be no female race at all. Then mankind would have no trouble at all.
ChorusἸᾶσον, εὖ μὲν τούσδʼ ἐκόσμησας λόγους·
ὅμως δʼ ἔμοιγε, κεἰ παρὰ γνώμην ἐρῶ,
δοκεῖς προδοὺς σὴν ἄλοχον οὐ δίκαια δρᾶν.
ChorusJason, you’ve dressed up these arguments nicely. But all the same, even if what I say goes against your view, I think that in betraying your wife you’re doing wrong.
Medeaἦ πολλὰ πολλοῖς εἰμι διάφορος βροτῶν.
ἐμοὶ γὰρ ὅστις ἄδικος ὢν σοφὸς λέγειν
πέφυκε, πλείστην ζημίαν ὀφλισκάνει·
γλώσσῃ γὰρ αὐχῶν τἄδικʼ εὖ περιστελεῖν,
τολμᾷ πανουργεῖν· ἔστι δʼ οὐκ ἄγαν σοφός.
ὣς καὶ σὺ μή νυν εἰς ἔμʼ εὐσχήμων γένῃ
λέγειν τε δεινός· ἓν γὰρ ἐκτενεῖ σʼ ἔπος.
χρῆν σʼ, εἴπερ ἦσθα μὴ κακός, πείσαντά με
γαμεῖν γάμον τόνδʼ, ἀλλὰ μὴ σιγῇ φίλων.
MedeaI really do differ from most people in a lot of ways. In my view, the unjust man who happens to be a clever speaker deserves the heaviest penalty. Because he’s confident he can wrap injustice up nicely with his tongue, he’ll dare any villainy. But he isn’t so very clever after all. So don’t you put on a fine show with me and make clever speeches. One word will lay you flat. If you weren’t a bad man, you should have persuaded me first and then made this marriage, not done it behind your family’s back.
Jasonκαλῶς γʼ ἄν, οἶμαι, τῷδʼ ὑπηρέτεις λόγῳ,
εἴ σοι γάμον κατεῖπον, ἥτις οὐδὲ νῦν
τολμᾷς μεθεῖναι καρδίας μέγαν χόλον.
JasonAnd you’d have been such a help with that plan, I suppose, if I’d told you about the marriage, when even now you can’t bring yourself to let go of the great rage in your heart.
Medeaοὐ τοῦτό σʼ εἶχεν, ἀλλὰ βάρβαρον λέχος
πρὸς γῆρας οὐκ εὔδοξον ἐξέβαινέ σοι.
MedeaThat wasn’t what held you back. A foreign wife was turning out to be no credit to you as you got older.
Jasonεὖ νυν τόδʼ ἴσθι, μὴ γυναικὸς εἵνεκα
γῆμαί με λέκτρα βασιλέων ἃ νῦν ἔχω,
ἀλλʼ ὥσπερ εἶπον καὶ πάρος, σῶσαι θέλων
σὲ καὶ τέκνοισι τοῖς ἐμοῖς ὁμοσπόρους
φῦσαι τυράννους παῖδας, ἔρυμα δώμασι.
JasonUnderstand this clearly, then: it wasn’t for the sake of a woman that I married into the royal bed I have now. As I said before, I wanted to save you, and to father royal children as brothers to my children, a bulwark for the house.
Medeaμή μοι γένοιτο λυπρὸς εὐδαίμων βίος
μηδʼ ὄλβος ὅστις τὴν ἐμὴν κνίζοι φρένα.
MedeaMay I never have a prosperous life that brings pain, or wealth that gnaws at my heart!
Jasonοἶσθʼ ὡς μετεύξει καὶ σοφωτέρα φανεῖ;
τὰ χρηστὰ μή σοι λυπρὰ φαινέσθω ποτέ,
μηδʼ εὐτυχοῦσα δυστυχὴς εἶναι δόκει.
JasonDo you know how you could change that prayer and look cleverer? Pray that good things never seem painful to you, and that when you’re fortunate you never think yourself unfortunate.
Medeaὕβριζʼ, ἐπειδὴ σοὶ μὲν ἔστʼ ἀποστροφή,
ἐγὼ δʼ ἔρημος τήνδε φευξοῦμαι χθόνα.
MedeaGo on, insult me, since you have somewhere to turn, and I’ll go into exile from this land alone.
Jasonαὐτὴ τάδʼ εἵλου· μηδένʼ ἄλλον αἰτιῶ.
JasonYou chose this yourself. Don’t blame anyone else.
Jasonὡς οὐ κρινοῦμαι τῶνδέ σοι τὰ πλείονα.
ἀλλʼ εἴ τι βούλει παισὶν ἢ σαυτῆς φυγῇ
προσωφέλημα χρημάτων ἐμῶν λαβεῖν,
λέγʼ· ὡς ἕτοιμος ἀφθόνῳ δοῦναι χερὶ
ξένοις τε πέμπειν σύμβολʼ, οἳ δράσουσί σʼ εὖ.
καὶ ταῦτα μὴ θέλουσα μωρανεῖς, γύναι·
λήξασα δʼ ὀργῆς κερδανεῖς ἀμείνονα.
JasonI won’t argue the rest of this with you any further. But if you want to take some extra help from my money for the children or for your own exile, say so. I’m ready to give with an open hand, and to send tokens to my friends abroad, who’ll treat you well. If you refuse this, lady, you’ll be a fool. Let go of your anger and you’ll be better off.
Medeaοὔτʼ ἂν ξένοισι τοῖσι σοῖς χρησαίμεθʼ ἄν,
οὔτʼ ἄν τι δεξαίμεσθα, μήθʼ ἡμῖν δίδου·
κακοῦ γὰρ ἀνδρὸς δῶρʼ ὄνησιν οὐκ ἔχει.
MedeaI wouldn’t make use of your friends, and I wouldn’t accept anything. Don’t give us a thing. A bad man’s gifts bring no good.
Jasonἀλλʼ οὖν ἐγὼ μὲν δαίμονας μαρτύρομαι,
ὡς πάνθʼ ὑπουργεῖν σοί τε καὶ τέκνοις θέλω·
σοὶ δʼ οὐκ ἀρέσκει τἀγάθʼ, ἀλλʼ αὐθαδίᾳ
φίλους ἀπωθεῖ· τοιγὰρ ἀλγυνεῖ πλέον.
JasonWell then, I call the gods to witness that I’m willing to help you and the children in every way. But what’s good doesn’t please you; you’re so stubborn you push your own people away. So you’ll suffer all the more.
Medeaχώρει· πόθῳ γὰρ τῆς νεοδμήτου κόρης
αἱρεῖ χρονίζων δωμάτων ἐξώπιος·
νύμφευʼ· ἴσως γάρ, σὺν θεῷ δʼ εἰρήσεται,
γαμεῖς τοιοῦτον ὥστε σʼ ἀρνεῖσθαι γάμον.
MedeaGo! You’re overcome with longing for the girl you’ve just broken in, lingering so long away from her house. Play the bridegroom! Perhaps—and a god will stand behind these words—you’re making the kind of marriage you’ll wish you could disown.
Second Stasimon
The Chorus prays for love in moderation and pities anyone who loses their homeland.
Chorusἔρωτες ὑπὲρ μὲν ἄγαν
ἐλθόντες οὐκ εὐδοξίαν
οὐδʼ ἀρετὰν παρέδωκαν
ἀνδράσιν· εἰ δʼ ἅλις ἔλθοι
Κύπρις, οὐκ ἄλλα θεὸς εὔχαρις οὕτως.
μήποτʼ, ὦ δέσποινʼ, ἐπʼ ἐμοὶ
χρυσέων τόξων ἐφείης
ἱμέρῳ χρίσασʼ ἄφυκτον οἰστόν.
στέργοι δέ με σωφροσύνα,
δώρημα κάλλιστον θεῶν·
μηδέ ποτʼ ἀμφιλόγους ὀργὰς
ἀκόρεστά τε νείκη
θυμὸν ἐκπλήξασʼ ἑτέροις ἐπὶ λέκτροις
προσβάλοι δεινὰ Κύπρις, ἀπτολέμους
δʼ εὐνὰς σεβίζουσʼ
ὀξύφρων κρίνοι λέχη γυναικῶν.
ChorusLoves that come too strongly,
past all measure,
bring men no good name,
no excellence.
But if Aphrodite comes in measure,
no other god is so full of grace.
Never, my lady,
never let fly at me from your golden bow
the arrow no one escapes,
dipped in desire.
May self-control hold me dear,
the finest gift of the gods.
And may dread Aphrodite never
strike my heart with frenzy for another’s bed
and hurl on me quarrelsome angers
and strife that is never sated,
but honoring beds at peace,
may she judge women’s marriages
with a keen mind.
ὦ πατρίς, ὦ δώματα, μὴ
δῆτʼ ἄπολις γενοίμαν
τὸν ἀμηχανίας ἔχουσα
δυσπέρατον αἰῶνʼ,
οἰκτρότατον ἀχέων.
θανάτῳ θανάτῳ πάρος δαμείην
ἁμέραν τάνδʼ ἐξανύσασα· μόχθων
δʼ οὐκ ἄλλος ὕπερθεν ἢ
γᾶς πατρίας στέρεσθαι.
εἴδομεν, οὐκ ἐξ ἑτέρων
μῦθον ἔχω φράσασθαι·
σὲ γὰρ οὐ πόλις, οὐ φίλων τις
ᾤκτισεν παθοῦσαν
δεινότατα παθέων.
My country, my home,
may I never be without a city,
living a life of helplessness,
so hard to get through,
the most pitiable of griefs.
By death, by death may I be overcome first,
and end my days.
Of all troubles none stands higher
than to be robbed of your native land.
We have seen it; it isn’t from others
that I have this story to tell.
For no city, no friend
has pitied you,
who have suffered
the most terrible of sufferings.
ἀχάριστος ὄλοιθʼ ὅτῳ πάρεστι
μὴ φίλους τιμᾶν καθαρὰν ἀνοίξαντα
κλῇδα φρενῶν· ἐμοὶ
μὲν φίλος οὔποτʼ ἔσται.
May he die unthanked
who can fail to honor his friends
by unlocking his heart with an honest key.
He will never be a friend of mine.
Third Episode
Aegeus of Athens swears to shelter Medea; she reveals she will kill the princess and her own sons.
AegeusΜήδεια, χαῖρε· τοῦδε γὰρ προοίμιον
κάλλιον οὐδεὶς οἶδε προσφωνεῖν φίλους.
AegeusMedea, I wish you joy! No one knows a finer greeting than that to offer friends.
Medeaὦ χαῖρε καὶ σύ, παῖ σοφοῦ Πανδίονος,
Αἰγεῦ. πόθεν γῆς τῆσδʼ ἐπιστρωφᾷ πέδον;
MedeaJoy to you too, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion. Where have you come from, to be visiting the soil of this land?
Medeaτί δʼ ὀμφαλὸν γῆς θεσπιῳδὸν ἐστάλης;
MedeaAnd why were you sent to the prophetic navel of the earth?
Medeaπρὸς θεῶν, ἄπαις γὰρ δεῦρʼ ἀεὶ τείνεις βίον;
MedeaBy the gods, have you lived all this time without children?
Medeaδάμαρτος οὔσης, ἢ λέχους ἄπειρος ὤν;
MedeaDo you have a wife, or have you never known the marriage bed?
Aegeusμάλιστʼ, ἐπεί τοι καὶ σοφῆς δεῖται φρενός.
AegeusCertainly. In fact, it needs a clever mind.
Medeaτί δῆτʼ ἔχρησε; λέξον, εἰ θέμις κλύειν.
MedeaThen what was his answer? Tell me, if it’s permitted to hear.
Aegeusἀσκοῦ με τὸν προύχοντα μὴ λῦσαι πόδα,
AegeusThat I mustn’t loosen the wineskin’s jutting foot…
Medeaσὺ δʼ ὡς τί χρῄζων τήνδε ναυστολεῖς χθόνα;
MedeaAnd what do you want, that you’ve sailed to this land?
AegeusΠιτθεύς τις ἔστι γῆς ἄναξ Τροιζηνίας.
AegeusThere’s a man called Pittheus, king of the land of Troezen.
Medeaπαῖς ὡς λέγουσι Πέλοπος εὐσεβέστατος.
MedeaA son of Pelops, they say, and a most devout man.
Medeaσοφὸς γὰρ ἁνὴρ καὶ τρίβων τὰ τοιάδε.
MedeaYes, he’s a clever man and practiced in such things.
Medeaἀλλʼ εὐτυχοίης καὶ τύχοις ὅσων ἐρᾷς.
MedeaWell, good luck to you, and may you get all you long for.
Aegeusτί γὰρ σὸν ὄμμα χρώς τε συντέτηχʼ ὅδε;
AegeusBut why are your eyes and your skin so wasted?
MedeaΑἰγεῦ, κάκιστος ἔστι μοι πάντων πόσις.
MedeaAegeus, my husband is the worst man in the world.
Aegeusτί φής; σαφῶς μοι σὰς φράσον δυσθυμίας.
AegeusWhat are you saying? Tell me clearly what’s troubling you.
Medeaἀδικεῖ μʼ Ἰάσων οὐδὲν ἐξ ἐμοῦ παθών.
MedeaJason is wronging me, though I’ve never done him any harm.
Aegeusἦ που τετόλμηκʼ ἔργον αἴσχιστον τόδε;
AegeusSurely he hasn’t dared to do anything so shameful?
Medeaσάφʼ ἴσθʼ· ἄτιμοι δʼ ἐσμὲν οἱ πρὸ τοῦ φίλοι.
MedeaBelieve me, he has. And we who were dear to him before are thrown aside.
Aegeusπότερον ἐρασθεὶς ἢ σὸν ἐχθαίρων λέχος;
AegeusDid he fall in love, or does he hate your bed?
Medeaμέγαν γʼ ἔρωτα· πιστὸς οὐκ ἔφυ φίλοις.
MedeaOh, a great love! He’s never been true to his own.
Medeaἀνδρῶν τυράννων κῆδος ἠράσθη λαβεῖν.
MedeaWhat he fell in love with was marrying into royalty.
Aegeusδίδωσι δʼ αὐτῷ τίς; πέραινέ μοι λόγον.
AegeusAnd who is giving her to him? Finish your story.
Medeaὄλωλα· καὶ πρός γʼ ἐξελαύνομαι χθονός.
MedeaI’m destroyed. And on top of that I’m being driven out of the land.
Aegeusπρὸς τοῦ; τόδʼ ἄλλο καινὸν αὖ λέγεις κακόν.
AegeusBy whom? That’s yet another new trouble you’re telling me.
MedeaΚρέων μʼ ἐλαύνει φυγάδα γῆς Κορινθίας.
MedeaCreon is driving me into exile from the land of Corinth.
Aegeusἐᾷ δʼ Ἰάσων; οὐδὲ ταῦτʼ ἐπῄνεσα.
AegeusAnd Jason allows it? I don’t approve of that either.
Medeaλόγῳ μὲν οὐχί, καρτερεῖν δὲ βούλεται.
ἀλλʼ ἄντομαί σε τῆσδε πρὸς γενειάδος
γονάτων τε τῶν σῶν ἱκεσία τε γίγνομαι,
οἴκτειρον οἴκτειρόν με τὴν δυσδαίμονα
καὶ μή μʼ ἔρημον ἐκπεσοῦσαν εἰσίδῃς,
δέξαι δὲ χώρᾳ καὶ δόμοις ἐφέστιον.
οὕτως ἔρως σοὶ πρὸς θεῶν τελεσφόρος
γένοιτο παίδων, καὐτὸς ὄλβιος θάνοις.
εὕρημα δʼ οὐκ οἶσθʼ οἷον ηὕρηκας τόδε·
παύσω δέ σʼ ὄντʼ ἄπαιδα καὶ παίδων γονὰς
σπεῖραί σε θήσω· τοιάδʼ οἶδα φάρμακα.
MedeaNot in words, but he’s happy to put up with it. But I beg you, by this beard of yours and by your knees, I make myself your suppliant: pity me, pity me in my misery! Don’t stand by and watch me thrown out friendless, but take me into your land and your house, to share your hearth. So may your desire for children be fulfilled by the gods, and may you die a happy man. You don’t know what a find you’ve made here. I’ll put an end to your childlessness and make you father children. I know drugs that can do that.
Aegeusπολλῶν ἕκατι τήνδε σοι δοῦναι χάριν,
γύναι, πρόθυμός εἰμι, πρῶτα μὲν θεῶν,
ἔπειτα παίδων ὧν ἐπαγγέλλει γονάς·
εἰς τοῦτο γὰρ δὴ φροῦδός εἰμι πᾶς ἐγώ.
οὕτω δʼ ἔχει μοι· σοῦ μὲν ἐλθούσης χθόνα,
πειράσομαί σου προξενεῖν δίκαιος ὤν.
τοσόνδε μέντοι σοι προσημαίνω, γύναι·
ἐκ τῆσδε μὲν γῆς οὔ σʼ ἄγειν βουλήσομαι·
ἀναίτιος γὰρ καὶ ξένοις εἶναι θέλω.
αὐτὴ δʼ ἐάνπερ εἰς ἐμοὺς ἔλθῃς δόμους,
μενεῖς ἄσυλος κοὔ σε μὴ μεθῶ τινι.
ἐκ τῆσδε δʼ αὐτὴ γῆς ἀπαλλάσσου πόδα.
AegeusFor many reasons I’m eager to grant you this favor, lady: first for the gods’ sake, then for the children you promise I’ll have, because I’ve set my whole heart on that. Here’s how it stands with me. If you come to my land, I’ll try to be your protector, as is just. But I warn you of this much, lady: I won’t be willing to take you away from this land, because I want to be blameless toward my hosts too. But if you get to my house yourself, you’ll stay there safe from seizure, and I’ll never hand you over to anyone. You must get yourself out of this land on your own.
Medeaἔσται τάδʼ· ἀλλὰ πίστις εἰ γένοιτό μοι
τούτων, ἔχοιμʼ ἂν πάντα πρὸς σέθεν καλῶς.
MedeaSo be it. But if I could have a pledge of this, I’d have everything I could want from you.
Medeaπέποιθα· Πελίου δʼ ἐχθρός ἐστί μοι δόμος
Κρέων τε. τούτοις δʼ, ὁρκίοισι μὲν ζυγείς,
ἄγουσιν οὐ μεθεῖʼ ἂν ἐκ γαίας ἐμέ·
λόγοις δὲ συμβὰς μὴ θεῶν ἐνώμοτος
φίλος γένοιʼ ἂν κἀπικηρυκεύματα
τάχʼ ἂν πίθοι σε· τἀμὰ μὲν γὰρ ἀσθενῆ,
τοῖς δʼ ὄλβος ἔστι καὶ δόμος τυραννικός.
MedeaI trust you. But the house of Pelias is my enemy, and so is Creon. If you’re bound by oaths, you won’t hand me over to them if they come to take me out of your land. But if you’ve agreed only in words and haven’t sworn by the gods, you might become their friend, and perhaps their heralds’ demands would win you over. I have no power, while they have wealth and a royal house.
Aegeusπολλὴν ἔδειξας ἐν λόγοις προμηθίαν·
ἀλλʼ εἰ δοκεῖ σοι, δρᾶν τάδʼ οὐκ ἀφίσταμαι.
ἐμοί τε γὰρ τάδʼ ἐστὶν ἀσφαλέστατα,
σκῆψίν τινʼ ἐχθροῖς σοῖς ἔχοντα δεικνύναι,
τὸ σόν τʼ ἄραρε μᾶλλον· ἐξηγοῦ θεούς.
AegeusYou’ve shown great foresight in what you say. Well, if you think it right, I won’t refuse to do it. It’s safest for me too, to have an excuse to show your enemies, and your position is more secure. Name the gods.
Medeaὄμνυ πέδον Γῆς πατέρα θʼ Ἥλιον πατρὸς
τοὐμοῦ θεῶν τε συντιθεὶς ἅπαν γένος,
MedeaSwear by the ground of Earth, and by the Sun, my father’s father, and add the whole race of gods together—
Medeaμήτʼ αὐτὸς ἐκ γῆς σῆς ἔμʼ ἐκβαλεῖν ποτε,
μήτʼ ἄλλος ἤν τις τῶν ἐμῶν ἐχθρῶν ἄγειν
χρῄζῃ, μεθήσειν ζῶν ἑκουσίῳ τρόπῳ.
MedeaNever to cast me out of your land yourself, and, if any of my enemies wants to take me away, never willingly to hand me over as long as you live.
Aegeusὄμνυμι Γῆν καὶ λαμπρὸν Ἡλίου φάος
θεούς τε πάντας ἐμμενεῖν ἅ σου κλύω.
AegeusI swear by Earth and the Sun’s bright light and all the gods to abide by what I hear from you.
Medeaἀρκεῖ· τί δʼ ὅρκῳ τῷδε μὴ ʼμμένων πάθοις;
MedeaThat’s enough. And if you don’t abide by this oath, what should you suffer?
Medeaχαίρων πορεύου· πάντα γὰρ καλῶς ἔχει.
κἀγὼ πόλιν σὴν ὡς τάχιστʼ ἀφίξομαι,
πράξασʼ ἃ μέλλω καὶ τυχοῦσʼ ἃ βούλομαι.
MedeaGo, and fare well. Everything is as it should be. And I’ll come to your city as soon as I can, once I’ve done what I intend and gotten what I want.
Chorusἀλλά σʼ ὁ Μαίας πομπαῖος ἄναξ
πελάσειε δόμοις, ὧν τʼ ἐπίνοιαν
σπεύδεις κατέχων πράξειας, ἐπεὶ
γενναῖος ἀνήρ,
Αἰγεῦ, παρʼ ἐμοὶ δεδόκησαι.
ChorusMay Maia’s son, the lord who guides travelers,
bring you safe to your home,
and may you achieve the purpose
you hold to so eagerly,
for to me, Aegeus,
you have shown yourself a noble man.
Medeaὦ Ζεῦ Δίκη τε Ζηνὸς Ἡλίου τε φῶς,
νῦν καλλίνικοι τῶν ἐμῶν ἐχθρῶν, φίλαι,
γενησόμεσθα κεἰς ὁδὸν βεβήκαμεν·
νῦν ἐλπὶς ἐχθροὺς τοὺς ἐμοὺς τίσειν δίκην.
οὗτος γὰρ ἁνὴρ ᾗ μάλιστʼ ἐκάμνομεν
λιμὴν πέφανται τῶν ἐμῶν βουλευμάτων·
ἐκ τοῦδʼ ἀναψόμεσθα πρυμνήτην κάλων,
μολόντες ἄστυ καὶ πόλισμα Παλλάδος.
ἤδη δὲ πάντα τἀμά σοι βουλεύματα
λέξω· δέχου δὲ μὴ πρὸς ἡδονὴν λόγους.
MedeaZeus, and Justice, daughter of Zeus, and light of the Sun! Now, my friends, we’ll win a glorious victory over my enemies; we’re on our way. Now there’s hope my enemies will pay the penalty. This man has appeared, just where I was most in trouble, as a harbor for my plans. To him I’ll make my stern cable fast, once I reach the town and city of Pallas. Now I’ll tell you all my plans. Don’t expect to enjoy what you hear.
πέμψασʼ ἐμῶν τινʼ οἰκετῶν Ἰάσονα
εἰς ὄψιν ἐλθεῖν τὴν ἐμὴν αἰτήσομαι·
μολόντι δʼ αὐτῷ μαλθακοὺς λέξω λόγους,
ὡς καὶ δοκεῖ μοι ταῦτα καὶ καλῶς ἔχει,
γάμους τυράννων οὓς προδοὺς ἡμᾶς ἔχει
καὶ ξύμφορʼ εἶναι καὶ καλῶς ἐγνωσμένα·
παῖδας δὲ μεῖναι τοὺς ἐμοὺς αἰτήσομαι,
οὐχ ὡς λίπω σφε πολεμίας ἐπὶ χθονός
ἐχθροῖσι παῖδας τοὺς ἐμοὺς καθυβρίσαι,
ἀλλʼ ὡς δόλοισι παῖδα βασιλέως κτάνω.
I’ll send one of my servants and ask Jason to come and see me. When he comes, I’ll speak soft words to him: that I agree with all this and think it’s for the best, that this royal marriage he’s made by betraying us is to our advantage and well judged. And I’ll ask for my children to stay—not so that I can leave them in a hostile land for my enemies to abuse, my own children, but so that I can kill the king’s daughter by trickery.
πέμψω γὰρ αὐτοὺς δῶρʼ ἔχοντας ἐν χεροῖν,
νύμφῃ φέροντας, τήνδε μὴ φεύγειν χθόνα,
λεπτόν τε πέπλον καὶ πλόκον χρυσήλατον·
κἄνπερ λαβοῦσα κόσμον ἀμφιθῇ χροΐ,
κακῶς ὀλεῖται πᾶς θʼ ὃς ἂν θίγῃ κόρης·
τοιοῖσδε χρίσω φαρμάκοις δωρήματα.
ἐνταῦθα μὲν δὴ τόνδʼ ἀπαλλάσσω λόγον·
ᾤμωξα δʼ οἷον ἔργον ἔστʼ ἐργαστέον
τοὐντεῦθεν ἡμῖν· τέκνα γὰρ κατακτενῶ
τἄμʼ· οὔτις ἔστιν ὅστις ἐξαιρήσεται·
I’ll send them with gifts in their hands, to take to the bride, asking that they not be banished from this land: a fine-spun robe and a crown of beaten gold. And if she takes the finery and puts it on her skin, she’ll die a horrible death, and so will anyone who touches the girl. Such are the drugs I’ll smear the gifts with. But I’ll leave that subject there. I cry aloud at the deed I must do next. I will kill my children—mine. There’s no one who can rescue them.
δόμον τε πάντα συγχέασʼ Ἰάσονος
ἔξειμι γαίας, φιλτάτων παίδων φόνον
φεύγουσα καὶ τλᾶσʼ ἔργον ἀνοσιώτατον.
οὐ γὰρ γελᾶσθαι τλητὸν ἐξ ἐχθρῶν, φίλαι.
ἴτω· τί μοι ζῆν κέρδος; οὔτε μοι πατρὶς
οὔτʼ οἶκος ἔστιν οὔτʼ ἀποστροφὴ κακῶν.
ἡμάρτανον τόθʼ ἡνίκʼ ἐξελίμπανον
δόμους πατρῴους, ἀνδρὸς Ἕλληνος λόγοις
πεισθεῖσʼ, ὃς ἡμῖν σὺν θεῷ τίσει δίκην.
And when I’ve wrecked the whole house of Jason, I’ll leave the land, fleeing the murder of my dearest children, having dared the most unholy of deeds. To be laughed at by your enemies is not to be borne, my friends. So be it. What do I gain by living? I have no country, no home, no refuge from my troubles. My mistake was made back when I left my father’s house, persuaded by the words of a Greek man—who, with a god’s help, will pay me what he owes.
οὔτʼ ἐξ ἐμοῦ γὰρ παῖδας ὄψεταί ποτε
ζῶντας τὸ λοιπὸν οὔτε τῆς νεοζύγου
νύμφης τεκνώσει παῖδʼ, ἐπεὶ κακὴν κακῶς
θανεῖν σφʼ ἀνάγκη τοῖς ἐμοῖσι φαρμάκοις.
μηδείς με φαύλην κἀσθενῆ νομιζέτω
μηδʼ ἡσυχαίαν, ἀλλὰ θατέρου τρόπου,
βαρεῖαν ἐχθροῖς καὶ φίλοισιν εὐμενῆ·
τῶν γὰρ τοιούτων εὐκλεέστατος βίος.
He’ll never see the children I bore him alive again, and he won’t father a child on his newly yoked bride, since she must die horribly, as she deserves, by my drugs. Let no one think me feeble and weak, or meek, but of the other kind: hard on my enemies and kind to my friends. People like that have the most glorious lives.
Chorusἐπείπερ ἡμῖν τόνδʼ ἐκοίνωσας λόγον,
σέ τʼ ὠφελεῖν θέλουσα καὶ νόμοις βροτῶν
ξυλλαμβάνουσα δρᾶν σʼ ἀπεννέπω τάδε.
ChorusSince you’ve shared this plan with us, I want to help you, and I want to uphold the laws of humankind: I tell you, don’t do it.
Medeaοὐκ ἔστιν ἄλλως· σοὶ δὲ συγγνώμη λέγειν
τάδʼ ἐστί, μὴ πάσχουσαν ὡς ἐγὼ κακῶς.
MedeaThere’s no other way. But it’s understandable that you should say so, since you aren’t suffering as I am.
Chorusἀλλὰ κτανεῖν σὼ παῖδε τολμήσεις, γύναι;
ChorusBut will you really bring yourself to kill your two sons, lady?
Chorusσὺ δʼ ἂν γένοιό γʼ ἀθλιωτάτη γυνή.
ChorusAnd you would become the most miserable of women.
Medeaἴτω· περισσοὶ πάντες οὑν μέσῳ λόγοι.
ἀλλʼ εἶα χώρει καὶ κόμιζʼ Ἰάσονα·
εἰς πάντα γὰρ δὴ σοὶ τὰ πιστὰ χρώμεθα.
λέξῃς δὲ μηδὲν τῶν ἐμοὶ δεδογμένων,
εἴπερ φρονεῖς εὖ δεσπόταις γυνή τʼ ἔφυς.
MedeaSo be it. All words in between are wasted. Come now, go and fetch Jason; I use you whenever there’s a need for trust. And don’t say a word about what I’ve decided, if you wish your mistress well and are a woman.
Third Stasimon
The Chorus praises Athens and begs Medea not to kill her children.
ChorusἘρεχθεΐδαι τὸ παλαιὸν ὄλβιοι
καὶ θεῶν παῖδες μακάρων, ἱερᾶς
χώρας ἀπορθήτου τʼ ἀποφερβόμενοι
κλεινοτάταν σοφίαν, ἀεὶ διὰ λαμπροτάτου
βαίνοντες ἁβρῶς αἰθέρος, ἔνθα ποθʼ ἁγνὰς
ἐννέα Πιερίδας Μούσας λέγουσι
ξανθὰν Ἁρμονίαν φυτεῦσαι·
τοῦ καλλινάου τʼ ἀπὸ Κηφισοῦ ῥοὰς
τὰν Κύπριν κλῄζουσιν ἀφυσσαμέναν
χώραν καταπνεῦσαι μετρίας ἀνέμων αὔρας·
ἀεὶ δʼ ἐπιβαλλομέναν
χαίταισιν εὐώδη ῥοδέων πλόκον ἀνθέων
τᾷ σοφίᾳ παρέδρους πέμπειν ἔρωτας,
παντοίας ἀρετᾶς ξυνεργούς.
ChorusThe sons of Erechtheus, prosperous from of old,
children of the blessed gods,
feeding on the most glorious wisdom
from a holy land never sacked,
always stepping gracefully
through the brightest air,
where once, they say,
the nine pure Muses of Pieria
gave birth to golden-haired Harmony.
And they tell how Aphrodite
drew water from the streams
of the fair-flowing Cephisus
and breathed over the land
soft breezes, gently blowing,
and always, wreathing her hair
in a fragrant garland of roses,
sends the Loves to sit beside Wisdom,
partners in every kind of excellence.
πῶς οὖν ἱερῶν ποταμῶν
ἢ πόλις ἢ φίλων
πόμπιμός σε χώρα
τὰν παιδολέτειραν ἕξει,
τὰν οὐχ ὁσίαν μετʼ ἄλλων;
σκέψαι τεκέων πλαγάν,
σκέψαι φόνον οἷον αἴρει.
μή, πρὸς γονάτων σε πάντως
πάντῃ σʼ ἱκετεύομεν,
τέκνα φονεύσῃς.
πόθεν θράσος ἢ φρενὸς ἢ
χειρί, τέκνον, σέθεν
καρδίᾳ τε λήψει,
δεινὰν προσάγουσα τόλμαν;
How then will the city of sacred rivers,
or the land that gives safe conduct to friends,
take you in, the child-killer,
the unholy one, to live among others?
Think of the blow that strikes your children,
think what a murder you’re taking on.
No—by your knees,
with all we have, in every way, we beg you,
don’t murder your children!
Where will you find the daring,
my child, in your mind
or in your hand and heart,
to bring this dreadful boldness to the deed?
πῶς δʼ ὄμματα προσβαλοῦσα
τέκνοις ἄδακρυν μοῖραν
σχήσεις; φόνῳ οὐ δυνάσει,
παίδων ἱκετᾶν πιτνόντων,
τέγξαι χέρα φοινίαν
τλάμονι θυμῷ.
How will you cast your eyes
on your children
and play your part without tears?
When your children fall at your feet,
begging, you won’t be able
to wet your hand in their blood
with a hardened heart.
Fourth Episode
Medea pretends to make peace with Jason and sends the children to the bride with poisoned gifts.
Jasonἥκω κελευσθείς· καὶ γὰρ οὖσα δυσμενὴς
οὐκ ἂν ἁμάρτοις τοῦδέ γʼ, ἀλλʼ ἀκούσομαι
τί χρῆμα βούλει καινὸν ἐξ ἐμοῦ, γύναι.
JasonI’ve come because you sent for me. Hostile as you are, you won’t be refused this much. I’ll listen. What new thing do you want from me, lady?
MedeaἸᾶσον, αἰτοῦμαί σε τῶν εἰρημένων
συγγνώμονʼ εἶναι· τὰς δʼ ἐμὰς ὀργὰς φέρειν
εἰκός σʼ, ἐπεὶ νῷν πόλλʼ ὑπείργασται φίλα.
ἐγὼ δʼ ἐμαυτῇ διὰ λόγων ἀφικόμην,
κἀλοιδόρησα· σχετλία, τί μαίνομαι
καὶ δυσμεναίνω τοῖσι βουλεύουσιν εὖ,
ἐχθρὰ δὲ γαίας κοιράνοις καθίσταμαι
πόσει θʼ, ὃς ἡμῖν δρᾷ τὰ συμφορώτατα,
γήμας τύραννον καὶ κασιγνήτους τέκνοις
ἐμοῖς φυτεύων; οὐκ ἀπαλλαχθήσομαι
θυμοῦ; τί πάσχω, θεῶν ποριζόντων καλῶς;
MedeaJason, I ask you to forgive what I said. It’s only reasonable for you to put up with my temper, since we two have shared so much love in the past. I’ve had it out with myself, and I scolded myself. Wretch, why am I raving, why am I hostile to those who mean me well, setting myself up as an enemy to the rulers of the land and to my husband, who’s doing what’s best for us by marrying a princess and fathering brothers for my children? Won’t I let go of my anger? What’s wrong with me, when the gods are providing so well?
οὐκ εἰσὶ μέν μοι παῖδες, οἶδα δὲ χθόνα
φεύγοντας ἡμᾶς καὶ σπανίζοντας φίλων;
ταῦτʼ ἐννοήσασʼ ᾐσθόμην ἀβουλίαν
πολλὴν ἔχουσα καὶ μάτην θυμουμένη.
νῦν οὖν ἐπαινῶ σωφρονεῖν τέ μοι δοκεῖς
κῆδος τόδʼ ἡμῖν προσλαβών, ἐγὼ δʼ ἄφρων,
ᾗ χρῆν μετεῖναι τῶνδε τῶν βουλευμάτων
καὶ ξυμπεραίνειν καὶ παρεστάναι λέχει
νύμφην τε κηδεύουσαν ἥδεσθαι σέθεν.
ἀλλʼ ἐσμὲν οἷόν ἐσμεν, οὐκ ἐρῶ κακόν,
γυναῖκες· οὔκουν χρῆν σʼ ὁμοιοῦσθαι κακοῖς
οὐδʼ ἀντιτείνειν νήπιʼ ἀντὶ νηπίων.
Don’t I have children? Don’t I know that we’re exiles from our country, and short of friends? When I thought about all this, I realized how very foolish I’d been, and how pointless my anger was. So now I approve. I think you’re being sensible in taking on this marriage alliance for us, and I was senseless. I should have shared in these plans and helped carry them through, stood beside the bridal bed and taken pleasure in attending your bride. But we are what we are—I won’t say anything bad—we’re women. So you shouldn’t have copied our faults, or matched childishness with childishness.
παριέμεσθα, καί φαμεν κακῶς φρονεῖν
τότʼ, ἀλλʼ ἄμεινον νῦν βεβούλευμαι τόδε.
ὦ τέκνα τέκνα, δεῦτε, λείπετε στέγας,
ἐξέλθετʼ, ἀσπάσασθε καὶ προσείπατε
πατέρα μεθʼ ἡμῶν, καὶ διαλλάχθηθʼ ἅμα
τῆς πρόσθεν ἔχθρας εἰς φίλους μητρὸς μέτα·
σπονδαὶ γὰρ ἡμῖν καὶ μεθέστηκεν χόλος.
λάβεσθε χειρὸς δεξιᾶς· οἴμοι κακῶν.
ὡς ἐννοοῦμαι δή τι τῶν κεκρυμμένων.
ἆρʼ, ὦ τέκνʼ, οὕτω καὶ πολὺν ζῶντες χρόνον
φίλην ὀρέξετʼ ὠλένην; τάλαινʼ ἐγώ,
ὡς ἀρτίδακρύς εἰμι καὶ φόβου πλέα.
I give in, and I admit I was wrong then; but I’ve come to a better decision now. Children, children, come here, leave the house, come out, embrace your father and speak to him with me, and be reconciled along with your mother, from the hatred we had before to love. We’ve made a truce, and the anger has passed. Take his right hand. Oh, the misery of it! The thought of what lies hidden comes over me! Children, will you stretch out your loving arms like this through a long life too? Poor me, how quick I am to cry, how full of fear!
χρόνῳ δὲ νεῖκος πατρὸς ἐξαιρουμένη
ὄψιν τέρειναν τήνδʼ ἔπλησα δακρύων.
At last I’m ending the quarrel with your father, and I’ve filled these soft eyes with tears.
Chorusκἀμοὶ κατʼ ὄσσων χλωρὸν ὡρμήθη δάκρυ·
καὶ μὴ προβαίη μεῖζον ἢ τὸ νῦν κακόν.
ChorusAnd a fresh tear has started from my eyes too. May the trouble go no further than it is now.
Jasonαἰνῶ γύναι τάδʼ, οὐδʼ ἐκεῖνα μέμφομαι·
εἰκὸς γὰρ ὀργὰς θῆλυ ποιεῖσθαι γένος
γάμους παρεμπολῶντι … πόσει.
ἀλλʼ εἰς τὸ λῷον σὸν μεθέστηκεν κέαρ,
ἔγνως δὲ τὴν νικῶσαν ἀλλὰ τῷ χρόνῳ
βουλήν· γυναικὸς ἔργα ταῦτα σώφρονος.
ὑμῖν δὲ παῖδες οὐκ ἀφροντίστως πατὴρ
πολλὴν ἔθηκε σὺν θεοῖς προμηθίαν·
JasonI approve of this, lady, and I don’t blame you for the other. It’s natural for the female sex to get angry when a husband is slipping in another marriage on the side … But your heart has changed for the better, and you’ve recognized the winning plan, even if it took time. That’s how a sensible woman acts. As for you, children, your father has not been thoughtless: with the gods’ help he has made full provision for you.
οἶμαι γὰρ ὑμᾶς τῆσδε γῆς Κορινθίας
τὰ πρῶτʼ ἔσεσθαι σὺν κασιγνήτοις ἔτι.
ἀλλʼ αὐξάνεσθε· τἄλλα δʼ ἐξεργάζεται
πατήρ τε καὶ θεῶν ὅστις ἐστὶν εὐμενής·
ἴδοιμι δʼ ὑμᾶς εὐτραφεῖς ἥβης τέλος
μολόντας, ἐχθρῶν τῶν ἐμῶν ὑπερτέρους.
αὕτη, τί χλωροῖς δακρύοις τέγγεις κόρας,
στρέψασα λευκὴν ἔμπαλιν παρηίδα,
κοὐκ ἀσμένη τόνδʼ ἐξ ἐμοῦ δέχει λόγον;
I believe that one day you’ll be among the first men in this land of Corinth, together with your brothers. All you need do is grow. The rest will be taken care of by your father and by whichever of the gods is kind to us. I hope I’ll see you well grown, reaching the full bloom of youth, stronger than my enemies. You—why are you wetting your eyes with fresh tears and turning your pale cheek away? Why aren’t you glad to hear me say this?
Jasonθάρσει νυν· εὖ γὰρ τῶνδε θήσομαι πέρι.
JasonCheer up, then. I’ll see that they’re well looked after.
Medeaδράσω τάδʼ· οὔτοι σοῖς ἀπιστήσω λόγοις·
γυνὴ δὲ θῆλυ κἀπὶ δακρύοις ἔφυ.
MedeaI will. I won’t doubt your word. But a woman is a soft thing, born for tears.
Jasonτί δή, τάλαινα, τοῖσδʼ ἐπιστένεις τέκνοις;
JasonBut why, poor thing, are you grieving so over the children?
Medeaἔτικτον αὐτούς· ζῆν δʼ ὅτʼ ἐξηύχου τέκνα,
εἰσῆλθέ μʼ οἶκτος εἰ γενήσεται τάδε.
ἀλλʼ ὧνπερ εἵνεκʼ εἰς ἐμοὺς ἥκεις λόγους,
τὰ μὲν λέλεκται, τῶν δʼ ἐγὼ μνησθήσομαι.
ἐπεὶ τυράννοις γῆς μʼ ἀποστεῖλαι δοκεῖ,
κἀμοὶ τάδʼ ἐστὶ λῷστα, γιγνώσκω καλῶς,
μήτʼ ἐμποδὼν σοὶ μήτε κοιράνοις χθονὸς
ναίειν, δοκῶ γὰρ δυσμενὴς εἶναι δόμοις,
ἡμεῖς μὲν ἐκ γῆς τῆσδʼ ἀπαίρομεν φυγῇ,
παῖδες δʼ ὅπως ἂν ἐκτραφῶσι σῇ χερί,
αἰτοῦ Κρέοντα τήνδε μὴ φεύγειν χθόνα.
MedeaI gave birth to them. When you prayed for the children to live, pity came over me at the thought: would it really be so? But of the things you came here to talk about, some have been said; I’ll bring up the rest. The rulers have decided to send me away from the land, and I recognize that this is best for me too, not to live where I’d be in your way or in the way of the country’s rulers, since I’m thought to be an enemy of the royal house. So I’ll leave this land in exile. But so that the children can be brought up by your hand, ask Creon not to banish them from this land.
Jasonοὐκ οἶδʼ ἂν εἰ πείσαιμι, πειρᾶσθαι δὲ χρή.
JasonI don’t know if I can persuade him, but I have to try.
Medeaσὺ δʼ ἀλλὰ σὴν κέλευσον αἰτεῖσθαι πατρὸς
γυναῖκα παῖδας τήνδε μὴ φεύγειν χθόνα.
MedeaThen at least tell your wife to ask her father not to banish the children from this land.
Medeaεἴπερ γυναικῶν ἐστι τῶν ἄλλων μία.
συλλήψομαι δὲ τοῦδέ σοι κἀγὼ πόνου·
πέμψω γὰρ αὐτῇ δῶρʼ ἃ καλλιστεύεται
τῶν νῦν ἐν ἀνθρώποισιν, οἶδʼ ἐγώ, πολύ,
λεπτόν τε πεπλον καὶ πλόκον χρυσήλατον
παῖδας φέροντας. ἀλλʼ ὅσον τάχος χρεὼν
κόσμον κομίζειν δεῦρο προσπόλων τινά.
εὐδαιμονήσει δʼ οὐχ ἓν ἀλλὰ μυρία,
ἀνδρός τʼ ἀρίστου σοῦ τυχοῦσʼ ὁμευνέτου
κεκτημένη τε κόσμον ὅν ποθʼ Ἥλιος
πατρὸς πατὴρ δίδωσιν ἐκγόνοισιν οἷς.
λάζυσθε φερνὰς τάσδε, παῖδες, εἰς χέρας
καὶ τῇ τυράννῳ μακαρίᾳ νύμφῃ δότε
φέροντες· οὔτοι δῶρα μεμπτὰ δέξεται.
MedeaYes, if she’s a woman like the rest. And I’ll take my share of this labor with you. I’ll send her gifts that are by far the most beautiful to be found among people today, I know: a fine-spun robe and a crown of beaten gold. The children will take them. One of the servants must bring the finery here as quickly as possible. She’ll be happy not in one way but in thousands, having won you, the best of men, to share her bed, and owning the finery that the Sun, my father’s father, once gave to his descendants. Take these wedding gifts in your hands, children, and carry them to the royal bride, so blessed, and give them to her. They’re not gifts she’ll find fault with.
Jasonτί δʼ, ὦ ματαία, τῶνδε σὰς κενοῖς χέρας;
δοκεῖς σπανίζειν δῶμα βασιλικὸν πέπλων,
δοκεῖς δὲ χρυσοῦ; σῷζε, μὴ δίδου τάδε.
εἴπερ γὰρ ἡμᾶς ἀξιοῖ λόγου τινὸς
γυνή, προθήσει χρημάτων, σάφʼ οἶδʼ ἐγώ.
JasonWhy empty your hands of these, you silly woman? Do you think a royal house is short of robes, or short of gold? Keep them, don’t give them away. If my wife thinks I’m worth anything, she’ll put me above possessions, I’m sure of it.
Medeaμή μοι σύ· πείθειν δῶρα καὶ θεοὺς λόγος·
χρυσὸς δὲ κρείσσων μυρίων λόγων βροτοῖς.
κείνης ὁ δαίμων κεῖνα νῦν αὔξει θεός·
νέα τυραννεῖ· τῶν δʼ ἐμῶν παίδων φυγὰς
ψυχῆς ἂν ἀλλαξαίμεθʼ, οὐ χρυσοῦ μόνον.
ἀλλʼ ὦ τέκνʼ, εἰσελθόντε πλουσίους δόμους
πατρὸς νέαν γυναῖκα, δεσπότιν δʼ ἐμήν,
ἱκετεύετʼ ἐξαιτεῖσθε μὴ φεύγειν χθόνα,
κόσμον διδόντες· τοῦδε γὰρ μάλιστα δεῖ,
εἰς χεῖρʼ ἐκείνην δῶρα δέξασθαι τάδε.
ἴθʼ ὡς τάχιστα· μητρὶ δʼ ὧν ἐρᾷ τυχεῖν
εὐάγγελοι γένοισθε πράξαντες καλῶς.
MedeaDon’t say that. Gifts persuade even the gods, they say, and gold counts for more with mortals than a thousand words. Fortune is hers; a god is raising her up now. She’s young, and she rules. To save my children from exile I’d give my life, not just gold. Come, children, go into the rich house and beg your father’s new wife, my mistress: plead with her not to banish you from the land, and give her the finery. This matters most of all: that she take these gifts into her own hands. Go as quickly as you can. And may you succeed, and bring your mother the good news of what she longs for.
Fourth Stasimon
The Chorus foresees the bride’s death and grieves for Jason and for Medea.
Chorusνῦν ἐλπίδες οὐκέτι μοι παίδων ζόας,
οὐκέτι· στείχουσι γὰρ ἐς φόνον ἤδη.
δέξεται νύμφα χρυσέων ἀναδεσμῶν
δέξεται δύστανος ἄταν·
ξανθᾷ δʼ ἀμφὶ κόμᾳ θήσει τὸν Ἅιδα
κόσμον αὐτὰ χεροῖν.
πείσει χάρις ἀμβρόσιός τʼ αὐγὰ πέπλον
χρυσότευκτόν τε στέφανον περιθέσθαι·
ChorusNow I have no more hope that the children will live,
no more: already they are walking toward murder.
The bride will take it, she will take
the golden diadem, poor girl, will take her ruin;
around her golden hair she will set
the finery of Hades
with her own two hands.
Its charm and its immortal gleam will persuade her
to put on the robe
and the crown of beaten gold;
νερτέροις δʼ ἤδη πάρα νυμφοκομήσει.
τοῖον εἰς ἕρκος πεσεῖται
καὶ μοῖραν θανάτου δύστανος· ἄταν δʼ
οὐχ ὑπερφεύξεται.
σὺ δʼ, ὦ τάλαν, ὦ κακόνυμφε
κηδεμὼν τυράννων,
παισὶν οὐ κατειδὼς
ὄλεθρον βιοτᾷ προσάγεις, ἀλόχῳ
τε σᾷ στυγερὸν θάνατον.
δύστανε μοίρας, ὅσον παροίχει.
she will be dressing as a bride among the dead below.
Into such a snare she will fall,
into such a death, poor girl; and ruin
she will not escape.
And you, poor wretch, ill-starred bridegroom,
marrying into the house of kings:
without knowing it
you are bringing destruction on your sons’ lives,
and on your wife a hateful death.
Unhappy man, how far you have fallen from your proper lot!
μεταστένομαι δὲ σὸν ἄλγος,
ὦ τάλαινα παίδων
μᾶτερ, ἃ φονεύσεις
τέκνα νυμφιδίων ἕνεκεν λεχέων,
ἅ σοι προλιπὼν ἀνόμως
ἄλλῃ ξυνοικεῖ πόσις συνεύνῳ.
And I grieve in turn for your pain,
unhappy mother,
you who will murder
your children for the sake of a marriage bed,
the bed your husband lawlessly abandoned
to live with another wife.
Fifth Episode
Medea wavers over killing her children; a messenger describes the deaths of the princess and Creon.
Tutorδέσποινʼ, ἀφεῖνται παῖδες οἵδε σοὶ φυγῆς,
καὶ δῶρα νύμφη βασιλὶς ἀσμένη χεροῖν
ἐδέξατʼ· εἰρήνη δὲ τἀκεῖθεν τέκνοις.
ἔα.
τί συγχυθεῖσʼ ἕστηκας ἡνίκʼ εὐτυχεῖς;
TutorMy lady, your boys here have been let off from exile, and the royal bride was glad to take the gifts into her hands. From that quarter the children have peace. What’s this? Why do you stand there so shaken, when your luck is good?
Tutorτί σὴν ἔστρεψας ἔμπαλιν παρηίδα,
κοὐκ ἀσμένη τόνδʼ ἐξ ἐμοῦ δέχει λόγον;
TutorWhy have you turned your cheek away? Why aren’t you glad to hear me say this?
Tutorμῶν τινʼ ἀγγέλλων τύχην
οὐκ οἶδα, δόξης δʼ ἐσφάλην εὐαγγέλου;
TutorHave I brought some bad news without knowing it, and been wrong to think it was good?
Medeaἤγγειλας οἷʼ ἤγγειλας· οὐ σὲ μέμφομαι.
MedeaYou’ve told what you’ve told. I don’t blame you.
Medeaπολλή μʼ ἀνάγκη, πρέσβυ· ταῦτα γὰρ θεοὶ
κἀγὼ κακῶς φρονοῦσʼ ἐμηχανησάμην.
MedeaI have every reason, old man. The gods have contrived all this—and I, with my evil thinking.
Tutorθάρσει· κάτει τοι καὶ σὺ πρὸς τέκνων ἔτι.
TutorTake heart. One day your sons will bring you home as well.
Medeaἄλλους κατάξω πρόσθεν ἡ τάλαινʼ ἐγώ.
MedeaBefore that I’ll send others home, poor wretch that I am.
Tutorοὔτοι μόνη σὺ σῶν ἀπεζύγης τέκνων.
κούφως φέρειν χρὴ θνητὸν ὄντα συμφοράς.
TutorYou’re not the only woman to be torn from her children. We’re mortal; we have to bear our misfortunes lightly.
Medeaδράσω τάδʼ. ἀλλὰ βαῖνε δωμάτων ἔσω
καὶ παισὶ πόρσυνʼ οἷα χρὴ καθʼ ἡμέραν.
ὦ τέκνα τέκνα, σφῷν μὲν ἔστι δὴ πόλις
καὶ δῶμʼ, ἐν ᾧ λιπόντες ἀθλίαν ἐμὲ
οἰκήσετʼ ἀεὶ μητρὸς ἐστερημένοι·
ἐγὼ δʼ ἐς ἄλλην γαῖαν εἶμι δὴ φυγάς,
πρὶν σφῷν ὄνασθαι κἀπιδεῖν εὐδαίμονας,
πρὶν λέκτρα καὶ γυναῖκα καὶ γαμηλίους
εὐνὰς ἀγῆλαι λαμπάδας τʼ ἀνασχεθεῖν.
ὦ δυστάλαινα τῆς ἐμῆς αὐθαδίας.
MedeaI will. But go inside and get the boys whatever they need for the day. Children, my children, you have a city now, and a home, where you’ll leave me in my misery and live forever, robbed of your mother. And I’ll go off to another land, an exile, before I’ve had any joy of you or seen you happy, before I’ve adorned your marriages, your brides and your wedding beds, and held up the wedding torches. How wretched my own stubborn pride has made me!
ἄλλως ἄρʼ ὑμᾶς, ὦ τέκνʼ, ἐξεθρεψάμην,
ἄλλως δʼ ἐμόχθουν καὶ κατεξάνθην πόνοις,
στερρὰς ἐνεγκοῦσʼ ἐν τόκοις ἀλγηδόνας.
ἦ μήν ποθʼ ἡ δύστηνος εἶχον ἐλπίδας
πολλὰς ἐν ὑμῖν γηροβοσκήσειν τʼ ἐμὲ
καὶ κατθανοῦσαν χερσὶν εὖ περιστελεῖν,
ζηλωτὸν ἀνθρώποισι· νῦν δʼ ὄλωλε δὴ
γλυκεῖα φροντίς. σφῷν γὰρ ἐστερημένη
λυπρὸν διάξω βίοτον ἀλγεινόν τʼ ἐμοί.
ὑμεῖς δὲ μητέρʼ οὐκέτʼ ὄμμασιν φίλοις
ὄψεσθʼ, ἐς ἄλλο σχῆμʼ ἀποστάντες βίου.
So it was for nothing, children, that I raised you, for nothing that I toiled and wore myself out with hardship, bearing the harsh pains of childbirth. And yet once, poor fool, I had such hopes of you: that you’d look after me in my old age, and when I died, lay me out properly with your own hands—the thing everyone envies. Now that sweet thought is gone. Robbed of you two, I’ll live out a life of grief and pain. And you will never again see your mother with loving eyes, once you’ve gone off into another kind of life.
φεῦ φεῦ· τί προσδέρκεσθέ μʼ ὄμμασιν, τέκνα;
τί προσγελᾶτε τὸν πανύστατον γέλων;
αἰαῖ· τί δράσω; καρδία γὰρ οἴχεται,
γυναῖκες, ὄμμα φαιδρὸν ὡς εἶδον τέκνων.
οὐκ ἂν δυναίμην· χαιρέτω βουλεύματα
τὰ πρόσθεν· ἄξω παῖδας ἐκ γαίας ἐμούς.
τί δεῖ με πατέρα τῶνδε τοῖς τούτων κακοῖς
λυποῦσαν αὐτὴν δὶς τόσα κτᾶσθαι κακά;
οὐ δῆτʼ ἔγωγε. χαιρέτω βουλεύματα.
καίτοι τί πάσχω; βούλομαι γέλωτʼ ὀφλεῖν
ἐχθροὺς μεθεῖσα τοὺς ἐμοὺς ἀζημίους;
Ah, ah. Why are you looking at me like that, children? Why are you smiling at me—that last smile of all? Oh, what shall I do? My heart fails me, women, when I see my children’s bright faces. I couldn’t do it. Goodbye to my earlier plans! I’ll take my children out of the country. Why should I hurt their father through their suffering, and win twice as much suffering for myself? No, not I. Goodbye to my plans. And yet—what’s happening to me? Do I want to be laughed at, letting my enemies go unpunished?
τολμητέον τάδʼ. ἀλλὰ τῆς ἐμῆς κάκης,
τὸ καὶ προέσθαι μαλθακοὺς λόγους φρενός.
χωρεῖτε παῖδες εἰς δόμους· ὅτῳ δὲ μὴ
θέμις παρεῖναι τοῖς ἐμοῖσι θύμασιν,
αὐτῷ μελήσει· χεῖρα δʼ οὐ διαφθερῶ.
ἆ ἆ.
μὴ δῆτα, θυμέ, μή ποτʼ ἐργάσῃ τάδε·
ἔασον αὐτούς, ὦ τάλαν, φεῖσαι τέκνων·
ἐκεῖ μεθʼ ἡμῶν ζῶντες εὐφρανοῦσί με.
μὰ τοὺς παρʼ Ἅιδῃ νερτέρους ἀλάστορας,
οὔτοι ποτʼ ἔσται τοῦθʼ ὅπως ἐχθροῖς ἐγὼ
παῖδας παρήσω τοὺς ἐμοὺς καθυβρίσαι.
I must dare it. What cowardice, even to let such soft words out of my mind! Go inside, children. Anyone who has no right to be present at my sacrifice—that’s his concern. My hand will not falter. Ah, ah! No, no, my angry heart, don’t you do this! Let them go, poor wretch, spare the children! Living with me there, they’ll be my joy. No—by the avenging spirits who dwell below in Hades, it will never happen that I leave my children for my enemies to abuse.
πάντως σφʼ ἀνάγκη κατθανεῖν· ἐπεὶ δὲ χρή,
ἡμεῖς κτενοῦμεν οἵπερ ἐξεφύσαμεν.
πάντως πέπρωται ταῦτα κοὐκ ἐκφεύξεται.
καὶ δὴ ʼπὶ κρατὶ στέφανος, ἐν πέπλοισι δὲ
νύμφη τύραννος ὄλλυται, σάφʼ οἶδʼ ἐγώ.
ἀλλʼ εἶμι γὰρ δὴ τλημονεστάτην ὁδόν,
καὶ τούσδε πέμψω τλημονεστέραν ἔτι
παῖδας προσειπεῖν βούλομαι. δότʼ, ὦ τέκνα,
δότʼ ἀσπάσασθαι μητρὶ δεξιὰν χέρα.
ὦ φιλτάτη χείρ, φίλτατον δέ μοι κάρα
καὶ σχῆμα καὶ πρόσωπον εὐγενὲς τέκνων,
εὐδαιμονοίτην, ἀλλʼ ἐκεῖ· τὰ δʼ ἐνθάδε
πατὴρ ἀφείλετʼ. ὦ γλυκεῖα προσβολή,
ὦ μαλθακὸς χρὼς πνεῦμά θʼ ἥδιστον τέκνων.
In any case they must die. And since they must, I who gave them birth will kill them. In any case it’s fated, and there’s no escape. Already the crown is on her head, and in the robes the royal bride is dying—I know it for sure. But since I’m setting out on the most miserable road of all, and will send them on one more miserable still, I want to speak to my children. Give me, children, give your mother your right hand to kiss. Oh, dearest hand, and dearest head, the figure and the noble faces of my children! May you be happy—but there. What was here your father has taken away. Oh, the sweet embrace, the soft skin, the sweetest breath of children!
χωρεῖτε χωρεῖτʼ· οὐ γάρ εἰμι προσβλέπειν
οἵα τʼ ἔθʼ ὑμᾶς, ἀλλὰ νικῶμαι κακοῖς.
καὶ μανθάνω μὲν οἷα δρᾶν μέλλω κακά·
θυμὸς δὲ κρείσσων τῶν ἐμῶν βουλευμάτων,
ὅσπερ μεγίστων αἴτιος κακῶν βροτοῖς.
Go, go. I can’t look at you any longer; my sufferings are too much for me. I understand what evil I’m about to do, but my anger is stronger than my plans—anger, the cause of the greatest evils for mortals.
Chorusπολλάκις ἤδη
διὰ λεπτοτέρων μύθων ἔμολον
καὶ πρὸς ἁμίλλας ἦλθον μείζους
ἢ χρὴ γενεὰν θῆλυν ἐρευνᾶν·
ἀλλὰ γὰρ ἔστιν μοῦσα καὶ ἡμῖν,
ἣ προσομιλεῖ σοφίας ἕνεκεν·
πάσαισι μὲν οὔ· παῦρον δὲ γένος
(μίαν ἐν πολλαῖς εὕροις ἂν ἴσως)
οὐκ ἀπόμουσον τὸ γυναικῶν.
καί φημι βροτῶν οἵτινές εἰσιν
πάμπαν ἄπειροι μηδʼ ἐφύτευσαν
παῖδας, προφέρειν εἰς εὐτυχίαν
τῶν γειναμένων.
οἱ μὲν ἄτεκνοι διʼ ἀπειροσύνην
εἴθʼ ἡδὺ βροτοῖς εἴτʼ ἀνιαρὸν
παῖδες τελέθουσʼ οὐχὶ τυχόντες
πολλῶν μόχθων ἀπέχονται·
ChorusMany times before now
I have made my way through subtler arguments
and entered greater contests
than womankind should search into.
But we too have a Muse,
who keeps us company for the sake of wisdom—
not all of us: a small number
(one among many, perhaps, you might find)
of womankind is not without the Muse.
And I say that those mortals
who have no experience at all, who never
had children, are ahead in happiness
of those who have borne them.
The childless, never having had them,
not knowing whether children
are a sweetness to mortals or a grief,
are spared many troubles.
οἷσι δὲ τέκνων ἔστιν ἐν οἴκοις
γλυκερὸν βλάστημʼ, ἀθρῶ μελέτῃ
κατατρυχομένους τὸν ἅπαντα χρόνον·
πρῶτον μὲν ὅπως θρέψουσι καλῶς
βίοτόν θʼ ὁπόθεν λείψουσι τέκνοις·
ἔτι δʼ ἐκ τούτων εἴτʼ ἐπὶ φλαύροις
εἴτʼ ἐπὶ χρηστοῖς
μοχθοῦσι, τόδʼ ἐστὶν ἄδηλον.
ἓν δὲ τὸ πάντων λοίσθιον ἤδη
πᾶσιν κατερῶ θνητοῖσι κακόν·
καὶ δὴ γὰρ ἅλις βιοτὴν ηὗρον,
σῶμά τʼ ἐς ἥβην ἤλυθε τέκνων
χρηστοί τʼ ἐγένοντʼ· εἰ δὲ κυρήσει
δαίμων οὗτος, φροῦδος ἐς Ἅιδην
θάνατος προφέρων σώματα τέκνων.
But those who have in their homes
the sweet young growth of children, I see them
worn down with worry all their days:
first, how to raise them well,
and where to find a living to leave them;
and then, after all that, whether it’s for worthless children
or for good ones
that they toil, no one can tell.
And one more thing, the last evil of all
for all mortals, I will tell now:
suppose they’ve found enough to live on,
and the children’s bodies have come to their prime,
and they’ve turned out good—if fate
falls out this way, Death is gone to Hades,
carrying the children’s bodies away.
πῶς οὖν λύει πρὸς τοῖς ἄλλοις
τήνδʼ ἔτι λύπην ἀνιαροτάτην
παίδων ἕνεκεν
θνητοῖσι θεοὺς ἐπιβάλλειν;
What good is it, then,
that on top of all the rest
the gods should lay on mortals
this grief, the bitterest of all,
for the sake of children?
Medeaφίλαι, πάλαι δὴ προσμένουσα τὴν τύχην
καραδοκῶ τἀκεῖθεν οἷ προβήσεται.
καὶ δὴ δέδορκα τόνδε τῶν Ἰάσονος
στείχοντʼ ὀπαδῶν· πνεῦμα δʼ ἠρεθισμένον
δείκνυσιν ὥς τι καινὸν ἀγγελεῖ κακόν.
MedeaMy friends, I’ve been waiting a long while for what fortune brings, watching to see how things will go over there. And now I see one of Jason’s attendants coming. His panting breath shows he has some new disaster to report.
Messengerὦ δεινὸν ἔργον παρανόμως εἰργασμένη
Μήδεια, φεῦγε φεῦγε, μήτε ναΐαν
λιποῦσʼ ἀπήνην μήτʼ ὄχον πεδοστιβῆ.
MessengerYou who have done a terrible, lawless deed, Medea—run, run! Don’t pass up any way out, a ship on the sea or a carriage on the road.
Messengerὄλωλεν ἡ τύραννος ἀρτίως κόρη
Κρέων θʼ ὁ φύσας φαρμάκων τῶν σῶν ὕπο.
MessengerThe royal princess has just died, and Creon her father too, from your poisons.
Medeaκάλλιστον εἶπας μῦθον, ἐν δʼ εὐεργέταις
τὸ λοιπὸν ἤδη καὶ φίλοις ἐμοῖς ἔσει.
MedeaThat’s the finest news you could have brought. From now on I’ll count you among my benefactors and friends.
Messengerτί φής; φρονεῖς μὲν ὀρθὰ κοὐ μαίνει, γύναι,
ἥτις τυράννων ἑστίαν ᾐκισμένην
χαίρεις κλύουσα κοὐ φοβεῖ τὰ τοιάδε;
MessengerWhat are you saying? Are you in your right mind, lady, and not mad? You hear that the royal house has been savaged, and you’re glad, and not afraid of such things?
Medeaἔχω τι κἀγὼ τοῖσι σοῖς ἐναντίον
λόγοισιν εἰπεῖν· ἀλλὰ μὴ σπέρχου, φίλος,
λέξον δʼ ὅπως ὤλοντο· δὶς τόσον γὰρ ἂν
τέρψειας ἡμᾶς, εἰ τεθνᾶσι παγκάκως.
MedeaI too have something I could say in answer to your words. But don’t rush, my friend. Tell me how they died. You’d give me twice the pleasure if they died horribly.
Messengerἐπεὶ τέκνων σῶν ἦλθε δίπτυχος γονὴ
σὺν πατρὶ καὶ παρῆλθε νυμφικοὺς δόμους,
ἥσθημεν οἵπερ σοῖς ἐκάμνομεν κακοῖς
δμῶες· διʼ οἴκων δʼ εὐθὺς ἦν πολὺς λόγος
σὲ καὶ πόσιν σὸν νεῖκος ἐσπεῖσθαι τὸ πρίν.
κυνεῖ δʼ ὃ μέν τις χεῖρʼ, ὃ δὲ ξανθὸν κάρα
παίδων· ἐγὼ δὲ καὐτὸς ἡδονῆς ὕπο
στέγας γυναικῶν σὺν τέκνοις ἅμʼ ἑσπόμην.
δέσποινα δʼ ἣν νῦν ἀντὶ σοῦ θαυμάζομεν,
πρὶν μὲν τέκνων σῶν εἰσιδεῖν ξυνωρίδα,
πρόθυμον εἶχʼ ὀφθαλμὸν εἰς Ἰάσονα·
MessengerWhen your two sons came with their father and went into the bride’s house, we servants, who had been grieved by your troubles, were glad. All through the house there was talk straight away that you and your husband had made peace over your old quarrel. One kissed the boys’ hands, another their golden hair. And I myself, out of joy, went along with the children into the women’s quarters. The mistress we now look up to in your place, before she noticed your two children, kept her eager eyes on Jason.
ἔπειτα μέντοι προυκαλύψατʼ ὄμματα
λευκήν τʼ ἀπέστρεψʼ ἔμπαλιν παρηίδα,
παίδων μυσαχθεῖσʼ εἰσόδους· πόσις δὲ σὸς
ὀργὰς ἀφῄρει καὶ χόλον νεάνιδος
λέγων τάδʼ· οὐ μὴ δυσμενὴς ἔσει φίλοις,
παύσει δὲ θυμοῦ καὶ πάλιν στρέψεις κάρα,
φίλους νομίζουσʼ οὕσπερ ἂν πόσις σέθεν,
δέξει δὲ δῶρα καὶ παραιτήσει πατρὸς
φυγὰς ἀφεῖναι παισὶ τοῖσδʼ ἐμὴν χάριν;
But then she veiled her eyes and turned her white cheek away, disgusted that the children had come in. Your husband tried to take away the girl’s anger and bitterness, saying: “Don’t be hostile to your own family. Stop being angry, turn your head back, and count as your own the people your husband does. Won’t you accept the gifts, and ask your father to let these children off from exile, for my sake?”
ἣ δʼ ὡς ἐσεῖδε κόσμον, οὐκ ἠνέσχετο,
ἀλλʼ ᾔνεσʼ ἀνδρὶ πάντα· καὶ πρὶν ἐκ δόμων
μακρὰν ἀπεῖναι πατέρα καὶ παῖδας σέθεν,
λαβοῦσα πέπλους ποικίλους ἠμπίσχετο,
χρυσοῦν τε θεῖσα στέφανον ἀμφὶ βοστρύχοις
λαμπρῷ κατόπτρῳ σχηματίζεται κόμην,
ἄψυχον εἰκὼ προσγελῶσα σώματος.
κἄπειτʼ ἀναστᾶσʼ ἐκ θρόνων διέρχεται
στέγας, ἁβρὸν βαίνουσα παλλεύκῳ ποδί,
δώροις ὑπερχαίρουσα, πολλὰ πολλάκις
τένοντʼ ἐς ὀρθὸν ὄμμασι σκοπουμένη.
τοὐνθένδε μέντοι δεινὸν ἦν θέαμʼ ἰδεῖν·
When she saw the finery, she couldn’t hold out, but agreed to everything her husband asked. Before your sons and their father were far from the house, she took the embroidered robes and put them on, set the golden crown around her curls, and arranged her hair in a bright mirror, smiling at the lifeless image of her body. Then she rose from her chair and walked through the rooms, stepping daintily on her white feet, delighted with the gifts, over and over turning her eyes to look at the back of her outstretched ankle. But after that came a terrible thing to see.
χροιὰν γὰρ ἀλλάξασα λεχρία πάλιν
χωρεῖ τρέμουσα κῶλα καὶ μόλις φθάνει
θρόνοισιν ἐμπεσοῦσα μὴ χαμαὶ πεσεῖν.
καί τις γεραιὰ προσπόλων δόξασά που
ἢ Πανὸς ὀργὰς ἢ τινὸς θεῶν μολεῖν
ἀνωλόλυξε, πρίν γʼ ὁρᾷ διὰ στόμα
χωροῦντα λευκὸν ἀφρόν, ὀμμάτων τʼ ἀπὸ
κόρας στρέφουσαν, αἷμά τʼ οὐκ ἐνὸν χροΐ·
εἶτʼ ἀντίμολπον ἧκεν ὀλολυγῆς μέγαν
κωκυτόν. εὐθὺς δʼ ἣ μὲν εἰς πατρὸς δόμους
ὥρμησεν, ἣ δὲ πρὸς τὸν ἀρτίως πόσιν,
φράσουσα νύμφης συμφοράς· ἅπασα δὲ
στέγη πυκνοῖσιν ἐκτύπει δρομήμασιν.
Her color changed. She staggered sideways, her legs trembling, and only just managed to fall into her chair and not onto the ground. One of the old serving women, thinking, I suppose, that a frenzy from Pan or some other god had come over her, raised the cry of worship—until she saw white foam coming from her mouth, her eyes rolling in their sockets, and the blood drained from her skin. Then she let out a great wail, the opposite of that cry. At once one maid rushed to her father’s rooms, another to her new husband, to tell them what had happened to the bride, and the whole house rang with people running back and forth.
ἤδη δʼ ἂν ἕλκων κῶλον ἐκπλέθρου δρόμου
ταχὺς βαδιστὴς τερμόνων ἀνθήπτετο·
ἣ δʼ ἐξ ἀναύδου καὶ μύσαντος ὄμματος
δεινὸν στενάξασʼ ἡ τάλαινʼ ἠγείρετο·
διπλοῦν γὰρ αὐτῇ πῆμʼ ἐπεστρατεύετο.
χρυσοῦς μὲν ἀμφὶ κρατὶ κείμενος πλόκος
θαυμαστὸν ἵει νᾶμα παμφάγου πυρός·
πέπλοι δὲ λεπτοί, σῶν τέκνων δωρήματα,
λεπτὴν ἔδαπτον σάρκα τῆς δυσδαίμονος.
φεύγει δʼ ἀναστᾶσʼ ἐκ θρόνων πυρουμένη,
σείουσα χαίτην κρᾶτά τʼ ἄλλοτʼ ἄλλοσε,
ῥῖψαι θέλουσα στέφανον· ἀλλʼ ἀραρότως
σύνδεσμα χρυσὸς εἶχε, πῦρ δʼ, ἐπεὶ κόμην
ἔσεισε, μᾶλλον δὶς τόσως τʼ ἐλάμπετο.
By now a fast walker, striding out, would have reached the end of a two-hundred-yard track. Then the poor girl, who had lain silent with her eyes closed, woke with a dreadful groan. For a double torment was marching against her. The golden circlet resting on her head was sending out an astonishing stream of all-devouring fire, and the delicate robes, your children’s gifts, were eating into the poor wretch’s delicate flesh. She leapt up from her chair and fled, on fire, tossing her hair and her head this way and that, trying to throw off the crown. But the gold held its fastenings tight, and whenever she shook her hair, the fire blazed twice as high.
πίτνει δʼ ἐς οὖδας συμφορᾷ νικωμένη,
πλὴν τῷ τεκόντι κάρτα δυσπετὴς μαθεῖν·
οὔτʼ ὀμμάτων γὰρ δῆλος ἦν κατάστασις
οὔτʼ εὐφυὲς πρόσωπον, αἷμα δʼ ἐξ ἄκρου
ἔσταξε κρατὸς συμπεφυρμένον πυρί,
σάρκες δʼ ἀπʼ ὀστέων ὥστε πεύκινον δάκρυ
γναθμοῖς ἀδήλοις φαρμάκων ἀπέρρεον,
δεινὸν θέαμα· πᾶσι δʼ ἦν φόβος θιγεῖν
νεκροῦ· τύχην γὰρ εἴχομεν διδάσκαλον.
πατὴρ δʼ ὁ τλήμων συμφορᾶς ἀγνωσίᾳ
ἄφνω παρελθὼν δῶμα προσπίτνει νεκρῷ·
She fell to the floor, overcome by the disaster, hard for anyone but her father to recognize. Her eyes had lost their natural shape, her face its beauty. Blood was dripping from the top of her head, mixed with fire, and the flesh was falling from her bones like resin from a pine, torn by the poison’s unseen jaws—a horrible sight. Everyone was afraid to touch the body; what had happened had taught us. But her poor father, knowing nothing of the disaster, came suddenly into the room and threw himself on the body.
ᾤμωξε δʼ εὐθύς, καὶ περιπτύξας δέμας
κυνεῖ προσαυδῶν τοιάδʼ· ὦ δύστηνε παῖ,
τίς σʼ ὧδʼ ἀτίμως δαιμόνων ἀπώλεσε;
τίς τὸν γέροντα τύμβον ὀρφανὸν σέθεν
τίθησιν; οἴμοι, συνθάνοιμί σοι, τέκνον.
ἐπεὶ δὲ θρήνων καὶ γόων ἐπαύσατο,
χρῄζων γεραιὸν ἐξαναστῆσαι δέμας
προσείχεθʼ ὥστε κισσὸς ἔρνεσιν δάφνης
λεπτοῖσι πέπλοις, δεινὰ δʼ ἦν παλαίσματα·
ὃ μὲν γὰρ ἤθελʼ ἐξαναστῆσαι γόνυ,
ἣ δʼ ἀντελάζυτʼ· εἰ δὲ πρὸς βίαν ἄγοι,
σάρκας γεραιὰς ἐσπάρασσʼ ἀπʼ ὀστέων.
At once he cried out, put his arms around her, and kissed her, saying: “My poor child, which of the gods has destroyed you so cruelly? Who has robbed this old man, who’s little more than a grave, of you? Oh, let me die with you, my child.” But when he had finished his laments and his weeping and wanted to raise his old body up, he stuck to the delicate robes as ivy clings to laurel shoots, and it was a terrible wrestling match. He wanted to get up on his knee, and she held him back; and if he pulled hard, he tore his old flesh from his bones.
χρόνῳ δʼ ἀπέστη καὶ μεθῆχʼ ὁ δύσμορος
ψυχήν· κακοῦ γὰρ οὐκέτʼ ἦν ὑπέρτερος.
κεῖνται δὲ νεκροὶ παῖς τε καὶ γέρων πατὴρ
πέλας, ποθεινὴ δακρύοισι συμφορά.
καί μοι τὸ μὲν σὸν ἐκποδὼν ἔστω λόγου·
γνώσει γὰρ αὐτὴ ζημίας ἀποστροφήν.
τὰ θνητὰ δʼ οὐ νῦν πρῶτον ἡγοῦμαι σκιάν,
οὐδʼ ἂν τρέσας εἴποιμι τοὺς σοφοὺς βροτῶν
δοκοῦντας εἶναι καὶ μεριμνητὰς λόγων
τούτους μεγίστην μωρίαν ὀφλισκάνειν.
In the end the unlucky man gave up and breathed out his life; he could no longer rise above the evil. And there they lie, dead, the daughter and her old father, side by side, a disaster to make anyone weep. As for you, let me leave your part out of what I say; you’ll know for yourself how to escape punishment. This isn’t the first time I’ve thought human life a shadow, and I’d say without fear that those mortals who seem clever, who fret over fine arguments, are the ones guilty of the greatest folly.
θνητῶν γὰρ οὐδείς ἐστιν εὐδαίμων ἀνήρ·
ὄλβου δʼ ἐπιρρυέντος εὐτυχέστερος
ἄλλου γένοιτʼ ἂν ἄλλος, εὐδαίμων δʼ ἂν οὔ.
For no mortal man is truly blessed. When wealth flows in, one may be luckier than another—but blessed, no.
Chorusἔοιχʼ ὁ δαίμων πολλὰ τῇδʼ ἐν ἡμέρᾳ
κακὰ ξυνάπτειν ἐνδίκως Ἰάσονι.
ὦ τλῆμον, ὥς σου συμφορὰς οἰκτείρομεν,
κόρη Κρέοντος, ἥτις εἰς Ἅιδου πύλας
οἴχει γάμων ἕκατι τῶν Ἰάσονος.
ChorusIt seems some god is fastening many troubles on Jason today, and justly. Poor girl, how we pity your misfortune, daughter of Creon, you who are gone to the gates of Hades because of your marriage to Jason.
Medeaφίλαι, δέδοκται τοὔργον ὡς τάχιστά μοι
παῖδας κτανούσῃ τῆσδʼ ἀφορμᾶσθαι χθονὸς
καὶ μὴ σχολὴν ἄγουσαν ἐκδοῦναι τέκνα
ἄλλῃ φονεῦσαι δυσμενεστέρᾳ χερί.
πάντως σφʼ ἀνάγκη κατθανεῖν· ἐπεὶ δὲ χρή,
ἡμεῖς κτενοῦμεν, οἵπερ ἐξεφύσαμεν.
ἀλλʼ εἶʼ ὁπλίζου, καρδία. τί μέλλομεν
τὰ δεινὰ κἀναγκαῖα μὴ πράσσειν κακά;
ἄγʼ ὦ τάλαινα χεὶρ ἐμή, λαβὲ ξίφος,
λάβʼ, ἕρπε πρὸς βαλβῖδα λυπηρὰν βίου,
καὶ μὴ κακισθῇς μηδʼ ἀναμνησθῇς τέκνων
ὡς φίλταθʼ, ὡς ἔτικτες· ἀλλὰ τήνδε γε
λαθοῦ βραχεῖαν ἡμέραν παίδων σέθεν,
κἄπειτα θρήνει· καὶ γὰρ εἰ κτενεῖς σφʼ, ὅμως
φίλοι γʼ ἔφυσαν, δυστυχὴς δʼ ἐγὼ γυνή.
MedeaMy friends, my mind is made up: I’ll kill the children as quickly as I can and leave this land. I won’t linger and hand them over to be murdered by another, more hostile hand. In any case they must die. And since they must, I who gave them birth will kill them. Come, arm yourself, my heart. Why do I hold back from doing these terrible, necessary evils? Come, my wretched hand, take the sword, take it, go to the starting line of a life of pain. Don’t be a coward. Don’t remember the children, how dear they are, how you gave them birth. For this one short day forget your children—and then mourn. For even if you kill them, still they were dear to you. And I am an unhappy woman.
Fifth Stasimon
The Chorus calls on Earth and Sun as the children cry out inside and are killed.
Chorusἰὼ Γᾶ τε καὶ παμφαὴς
ἀκτὶς Ἀελίου, κατίδετʼ ἴδετε τὰν
ὀλομέναν γυναῖκα, πρὶν φοινίαν
τέκνοις προσβαλεῖν χέρʼ αὐτοκτόνον·
σᾶς γὰρ ἀπὸ χρυσέας γονᾶς
ἔβλαστεν, θεοῦ δʼ αἵματι πίτνειν
φόβος ὑπʼ ἀνέρων.
ἀλλά νιν, ὦ φάος διογενές, κάτειργε
κατάπαυσον, ἔξελʼ οἴκων τάλαιναν
φονίαν τʼ Ἐρινὺν ὑπʼ ἀλαστόρων.
μάταν μόχθος ἔρρει τέκνων,
ἆρα μάταν γένος φίλιον ἔτεκες, ὦ
κυανεᾶν λιποῦσα Συμπληγάδων
πετρᾶν ἀξενωτάταν εἰσβολάν.
δειλαία, τί σοι φρενῶν βαρὺς
χόλος προσπίτνει καὶ δυσσεβὴς
φόνος ἀμείβεται;
χαλεπὰ γὰρ βροτοῖς ὁμογενῆ μιάσματʼ
ἐπὶ γαῖαν αὐτοφόνταις συνῳδὰ
θεόθεν πίτνοντʼ ἐπὶ δόμοις ἄχη.
ChorusAh, Earth, and you, all-shining
ray of the Sun, look down, look
on this ruined woman, before she lays
a bloody, kin-killing hand on her children!
They sprang from your golden race,
and it is a fearful thing for a god’s blood
to be spilled by men.
Light born of Zeus, hold her back,
stop her, drive out of the house this wretched,
murderous Fury set on by avenging spirits.
In vain the labor for your children is lost;
in vain, then, you bore your dear sons,
you who left behind the dark Clashing Rocks
and their most inhospitable passage.
Poor wretch, why does heavy anger
fall upon your mind, and godless
murder follow murder?
For hard on mortals are the pollutions of kindred blood:
griefs in tune with the deed
fall from the gods on the houses of those who kill their own.
Childrenοἴμοι, τί δράσω; ποῖ φύγω μητρὸς χέρας;
οὐκ οἶδʼ, ἀδελφὲ φίλτατʼ· ὀλλύμεσθα γάρ.
ChildrenOh, no, what shall I do? Where can I run from Mother’s hands? I don’t know, my dearest brother. We’re dying.
Chorusἀκούεις βοὰν ἀκούεις τέκνων;
ἰὼ τλᾶμον, ὦ κακοτυχὲς γύναι.
παρέλθω δόμους; ἀρῆξαι φόνον
δοκεῖ μοι τέκνοις.
ChorusDo you hear the cry, do you hear the children?
Ah, poor woman, ill-fated woman!
Shall I go into the house? I think
we must save the children from murder.
Childrenναί, πρὸς θεῶν, ἀρήξατʼ· ἐν δέοντι γάρ·
ὡς ἐγγὺς ἤδη γʼ ἐσμὲν ἀρκύων ξίφους.
ChildrenYes, for the gods’ sake, help! Now’s the time—we’re already caught close in the net of the sword.
Chorusτάλαινʼ, ὡς ἄρʼ ἦσθα πέτρος ἢ σίδαρος,
ἅτις τέκνων ὃν ἔτεκες
ἄροτον αὐτόχειρι μοίρᾳ κτενεῖς.
μίαν δὴ κλύω μίαν τῶν πάρος
γυναῖκʼ ἐν φίλοις χέρα βαλεῖν τέκνοις,
Ἰνὼ μανεῖσαν ἐκ θεῶν, ὅθʼ ἡ Διὸς
δάμαρ νιν ἐξέπεμψε δωμάτων ἄλῃ.
πίτνει δʼ ἁ τάλαινʼ ἐς ἅλμαν φόνῳ
τέκνων δυσσεβεῖ,
ἀκτῆς ὑπερτείνασα ποντίας πόδα,
δυοῖν τε παίδοιν συνθανοῦσʼ ἀπόλλυται.
τί δῆτʼ οὖν γένοιτʼ ἂν ἔτι δεινόν; ὦ
γυναικῶν λέχος πολύπονον,
ὅσα βροτοῖς ἔρεξας ἤδη κακά.
ChorusPoor wretch, so you were stone, then, or iron,
you who will kill the crop of children you bore
with your own hand.
One woman, only one, I have heard of before
who laid hands on her own dear children:
Ino, driven mad by the gods, when the wife of Zeus
sent her wandering from her house.
The poor woman plunged into the sea for the godless murder
of her children,
stretching her foot out over the sea-cliff,
and perished, dying together with her two sons.
What could be more terrible now?
Women’s marriage bed, so full of pain,
how much harm you have done to mortals already!
Exodos
Jason arrives too late; Medea appears in the Sun’s chariot with the bodies and leaves for Athens.
Jasonγυναῖκες αἳ τῆσδʼ ἐγγὺς ἕστατε στέγης,
ἆρʼ ἐν δόμοισιν ἡ τὰ δείνʼ εἰργασμένη
Μήδεια τοισίδʼ, ἢ μεθέστηκεν φυγῇ;
δεῖ γάρ νιν ἤτοι γῆς σφε κρυφθῆναι κάτω,
ἢ πτηνὸν ἆραι σῶμʼ ἐς αἰθέρος βάθος,
εἰ μὴ τυράννων δώμασιν δώσει δίκην.
πέποιθʼ ἀποκτείνασα κοιράνους χθονὸς
ἀθῷος αὐτὴ τῶνδε φεύξεσθαι δόμων;
ἀλλʼ οὐ γὰρ αὐτῆς φροντίδʼ ὡς τέκνων ἔχω·
κείνην μὲν οὓς ἔδρασεν ἔρξουσιν κακῶς,
ἐμῶν δὲ παίδων ἦλθον ἐκσώσων βίον,
μή μοί τι δράσωσʼ οἱ προσήκοντες γένει,
μητρῷον ἐκπράσσοντες ἀνόσιον φόνον.
JasonWomen standing near this house, is she inside, the woman who has done these terrible things, Medea—or has she gone off and fled? She’ll have to hide herself under the earth, or lift her body on wings into the depths of the sky, if she isn’t to pay the price to the royal house. Does she think she can kill the rulers of this land and escape from this house unpunished? But it isn’t her I’m worried about so much as the children. Those she wronged will do her harm; I’ve come to save my sons’ lives, so that the king’s kin don’t do something to them, avenging their mother’s unholy murder.
Chorusὦ τλῆμον, οὐκ οἶσθʼ οἷ κακῶν ἐλήλυθας,
Ἰᾶσον· οὐ γὰρ τούσδʼ ἂν ἐφθέγξω λόγους.
ChorusPoor man, you don’t know how deep in trouble you’ve come, Jason, or you wouldn’t have said this.
Jasonοἴμοι τί λέξεις; ὥς μʼ ἀπώλεσας, γύναι.
JasonOh, no, what are you saying? You’ve destroyed me, lady.
Chorusὡς οὐκέτʼ ὄντων σῶν τέκνων φρόντιζε δή.
ChorusThink of your children as no longer living.
Jasonποῦ γάρ νιν ἔκτεινʼ, ἐντὸς ἢ ἔξωθεν δόμων;
JasonWhere did she kill them—inside the house or out?
Chorusπύλας ἀνοίξας σῶν τέκνων ὄψει φόνον.
ChorusOpen the doors and you’ll see your children murdered.
Jasonχαλᾶτε κλῇδας ὡς τάχιστα, πρόσπολοι,
ἐκλύεθʼ ἁρμούς, ὡς ἴδω διπλοῦν κακόν,
τοὺς μὲν θανόντας, τὴν δὲ τίσωμαι φόνῳ.
JasonUndo the bolts, servants, as fast as you can, loosen the fastenings, so I can see this double evil—them dead, and her, whom I’ll make pay with her death.
Medeaτί τάσδε κινεῖς κἀναμοχλεύεις πύλας,
νεκροὺς ἐρευνῶν κἀμὲ τὴν εἰργασμένην;
παῦσαι πόνου τοῦδʼ· εἰ δʼ ἐμοῦ χρείαν ἔχεις,
λέγʼ εἴ τι βούλει, χειρὶ δʼ οὐ ψαύσεις ποτέ.
τοιόνδʼ ὄχημα πατρὸς Ἥλιος πατὴρ
δίδωσιν ἡμῖν, ἔρυμα πολεμίας χερός.
MedeaWhy are you shaking these doors and prying them open, searching for the dead and for me who did it? Stop that work. If you need something from me, say what you want—but you’ll never lay a hand on me. Such is the chariot the Sun, my father’s father, gives me, a defense against an enemy’s hand.
Jasonὦ μῖσος, ὦ μέγιστον ἐχθίστη γύναι
θεοῖς τε κἀμοὶ παντί τʼ ἀνθρώπων γένει,
ἥτις τέκνοισι σοῖσιν ἐμβαλεῖν ξίφος
ἔτλης τεκοῦσα κἄμʼ ἄπαιδʼ ἀπώλεσας·
καὶ ταῦτα δράσασʼ ἥλιόν τε προσβλέπεις
καὶ γαῖαν, ἔργον τλᾶσα δυσσεβέστατον.
ὄλοιʼ· ἐγὼ δὲ νῦν φρονῶ, τότʼ οὐ φρονῶν
ὅτʼ ἐκ δόμων σε βαρβάρου τʼ ἀπὸ χθονὸς
Ἕλληνʼ ἐς οἶκον ἠγόμην, κακὸν μέγα,
πατρός τε καὶ γῆς προδότιν ἥ σʼ ἐθρέψατο.
JasonYou hateful thing, woman most loathed by the gods and by me and by the whole human race—you could bring yourself to drive a sword into your own children, you who bore them, and you’ve destroyed me, left me childless. And having done this you look on the sun and the earth, after daring the most godless deed of all. Death take you! I see clearly now, though I didn’t then, when I brought you from your home in a foreign land to a Greek house—a great evil, a traitor to your father and to the land that raised you.
τοιόνδʼ ἀλάστορʼ εἰς ἔμʼ ἔσκηψαν θεοί·
κτανοῦσα γὰρ δὴ σὸν κάσιν παρέστιον,
τὸ καλλίπρῳρον εἰσέβης Ἀργοῦς σκάφος.
ἤρξω μὲν ἐκ τοιῶνδε, νυμφευθεῖσα δὲ
παρʼ ἀνδρὶ τῷδε καὶ τεκοῦσά μοι τέκνα,
εὐνῆς ἕκατι καὶ λέχους σφʼ ἀπώλεσας.
οὐκ ἔστιν ἥτις τοῦτʼ ἂν Ἑλληνὶς γυνὴ
ἔτλη ποθʼ, ὧν γε πρόσθεν ἠξίουν ἐγὼ
γῆμαί σε, κῆδος ἐχθρὸν ὀλέθριόν τʼ ἐμοί,
λέαιναν, οὐ γυναῖκα, τῆς Τυρσηνίδος
Σκύλλης ἔχουσαν ἀγριωτέραν φύσιν.
Such is the avenging curse the gods have hurled on me. You killed your own brother at the hearth, and then boarded the fair-prowed hull of the Argo. That’s how you began. Then you married this man and bore me children, and for the sake of a bed and a marriage you’ve destroyed them. There’s no Greek woman who would ever have dared this—and I thought fit to marry you instead of them, a hateful, deadly match for me: a lioness, not a woman, with a nature more savage than Tyrrhenian Scylla.
ἀλλʼ οὐ γὰρ ἄν σε μυρίοις ὀνείδεσι
δάκοιμι· τοιόνδʼ ἐμπέφυκέ σοι θράσος·
ἔρρʼ, αἰσχροποιὲ καὶ τέκνων μιαιφόνε.
ἐμοὶ δὲ τὸν ἐμὸν δαίμονʼ αἰάζειν πάρα,
ὃς οὔτε λέκτρων νεογάμων ὀνήσομαι,
οὐ παῖδας οὓς ἔφυσα κἀξεθρεψάμην
ἕξω προσειπεῖν ζῶντας, ἀλλʼ ἀπώλεσα.
But I couldn’t wound you with ten thousand insults, such is the brazenness born in you. Away with you, you shameless creature, murderer of your children! As for me, all that’s left is to mourn my fate: I’ll have no joy of my new marriage, and I’ll never speak to the sons I fathered and raised while they’re alive. I’ve lost them.
Medeaμακρὰν ἂν ἐξέτεινα τοῖσδʼ ἐναντίον
λόγοισιν, εἰ μὴ Ζεὺς πατὴρ ἠπίστατο
οἷʼ ἐξ ἐμοῦ πέπονθας οἷά τʼ εἰργάσω·
σὺ δʼ οὐκ ἔμελλες τἄμʼ ἀτιμάσας λέχη
τερπνὸν διάξειν βίοτον ἐγγελῶν ἐμοί,
οὐδʼ ἡ τύραννος οὐδʼ ὁ σοὶ προσθεὶς γάμους
Κρέων ἀνατὶ τῆσδέ μʼ ἐκβαλεῖν χθονός.
πρὸς ταῦτα καὶ λέαιναν, εἰ βούλει, κάλει
καὶ Σκύλλαν ἢ Τυρσηνὸν ᾤκησεν πέδον·
τῆς σῆς γὰρ ὡς χρὴ καρδίας ἀνθηψάμην.
MedeaI’d have made a long speech in reply to this, if Father Zeus didn’t know what you got from me and what you did. You weren’t going to spurn my bed and lead a pleasant life laughing at me—nor was the princess, nor Creon, who offered you the marriage, going to throw me out of this land and go unpunished. So call me a lioness, if you like, and Scylla, who lived on the Tyrrhenian shore. I’ve struck at your heart, as I had to.
Jasonκαὐτή γε λυπεῖ καὶ κακῶν κοινωνὸς εἶ.
JasonYou’re in pain yourself; you share in the suffering.
Medeaσάφʼ ἴσθι· λύει δʼ ἄλγος, ἢν σὺ μὴ ʼγγελᾷς.
MedeaBe sure of it. But the pain is worth it, as long as you can’t laugh at me.
Jasonοὔτοι νυν ἡμὴ δεξιά σφʼ ἀπώλεσεν.
JasonIt wasn’t my right hand, you know, that killed them.
Medeaἀλλʼ ὕβρις οἵ τε σοὶ νεοδμῆτες γάμοι.
MedeaNo—your arrogance did, and your brand-new marriage.
Medeaσμικρὸν γυναικὶ πῆμα τοῦτʼ εἶναι δοκεῖς;
MedeaDo you think that’s a small pain for a woman?
Jasonἥτις γε σώφρων· σοὶ δὲ πάντʼ ἐστὶν κακά.
JasonFor a sensible one, yes. But to you everything is evil.
Jasonοἵδʼ εἰσὶν ὠμοὶ σῷ κάρᾳ μιάστορες.
JasonOh, they are—as savage avengers to fall on your head.
Jasonἴσασι δῆτα σήν γʼ ἀπόπτυστον φρένα.
JasonThey know, all right—they know your loathsome mind.
Jasonκαὶ μὴν ἐγὼ σήν· ῥᾴδιοι δʼ ἀπαλλαγαί.
JasonAnd I of yours. It’s easy enough to be rid of each other.
Medeaπῶς οὖν; τί δράσω; κάρτα γὰρ κἀγὼ θέλω.
MedeaHow, then? What should I do? I want that badly too.
Medeaοὐ δῆτʼ, ἐπεὶ σφᾶς τῇδʼ ἐγὼ θάψω χερί,
φέρουσʼ ἐς Ἥρας τέμενος Ἀκραίας θεοῦ,
ὡς μή τις αὐτοὺς πολεμίων καθυβρίσῃ,
τύμβους ἀνασπῶν· γῇ δὲ τῇδε Σισύφου
σεμνὴν ἑορτὴν καὶ τέλη προσάψομεν
τὸ λοιπὸν ἀντὶ τοῦδε δυσσεβοῦς φόνου.
αὐτὴ δὲ γαῖαν εἶμι τὴν Ἐρεχθέως,
Αἰγεῖ συνοικήσουσα τῷ Πανδίονος.
σὺ δʼ, ὥσπερ εἰκός, κατθανεῖ κακὸς κακῶς,
Ἀργοῦς κάρα σὸν λειψάνῳ πεπληγμένος,
πικρὰς τελευτὰς τῶν ἐμῶν γάμων ἰδών.
MedeaNever. I’ll bury them with this hand, taking them to the sanctuary of Hera of the Heights, so that none of my enemies can outrage them by tearing up their graves. And on this land of Sisyphus I’ll lay a solemn festival and rites for all time to come, in return for this unholy murder. As for me, I’m going to the land of Erechtheus, to live with Aegeus, son of Pandion. And you, as is fitting, will die a bad man’s bad death, your head struck by a piece of the Argo, after you’ve seen the bitter end of your marriage to me.
Jasonἀλλά σʼ Ἐρινὺς ὀλέσειε τέκνων
φονία τε Δίκη.
JasonMay the Fury of our children destroy you,
and Justice that avenges blood!
Medeaτίς δὲ κλύει σου θεὸς ἢ δαίμων,
τοῦ ψευδόρκου καὶ ξειναπάτου;
MedeaWhat god or power listens to you,
you oath-breaker, you who cheated a stranger?
Medeaμητρί γε, σοὶ δʼ οὔ.
MedeaBy their mother, yes—not by you.
Medeaσέ γε πημαίνουσʼ.
MedeaTo hurt you.
Jasonὤμοι, φιλίου χρῄζω στόματος
παίδων ὁ τάλας προσπτύξασθαι.
JasonOh, no, how I long, poor wretch,
to kiss my children’s dear lips!
Medeaνῦν σφε προσαυδᾷς, νῦν ἀσπάζει,
τότʼ ἀπωσάμενος.
MedeaNow you speak to them, now you’d embrace them,
when before you pushed them away.
Jasonδός μοι πρὸς θεῶν
μαλακοῦ χρωτὸς ψαῦσαι τέκνων.
JasonFor the gods’ sake, let me
touch my children’s soft skin.
JasonΖεῦ, τάδʼ ἀκούεις ὡς ἀπελαυνόμεθʼ,
οἷά τε πάσχομεν ἐκ τῆς μυσαρᾶς
καὶ παιδοφόνου τῆσδε λεαίνης;
ἀλλʼ ὁπόσον γοῦν πάρα καὶ δύναμαι
τάδε καὶ θρηνῶ κἀπιθεάζω,
μαρτυρόμενος δαίμονας ὥς μοι
τέκνʼ ἀποκτείνασʼ ἀποκωλύεις
ψαῦσαί τε χεροῖν θάψαι τε νεκρούς,
οὓς μήποτʼ ἐγὼ φύσας ὄφελον
πρὸς σοῦ φθιμένους ἐπιδέσθαι.
JasonZeus, do you hear how I’m driven away,
what I suffer from this vile,
child-murdering lioness?
But as much as I may, as far as I’m able,
I mourn this, and I call on the gods,
and summon the powers to witness
that you killed my children and now keep me
from touching them with my hands and burying the dead.
I wish I had never fathered them,
only to see them destroyed by you!
Chorusπολλῶν ταμίας Ζεὺς ἐν Ὀλύμπῳ,
πολλὰ δʼ ἀέλπτως κραίνουσι θεοί·
καὶ τὰ δοκηθέντʼ οὐκ ἐτελέσθη,
τῶν δʼ ἀδοκήτων πόρον ηὗρε θεός.
τοιόνδʼ ἀπέβη τόδε πρᾶγμα.
ChorusZeus on Olympus is steward of many things,
and the gods bring many things to pass beyond our hopes;
what we expected was not fulfilled,
and for the unexpected a god found a way.
So this affair has turned out.