Medea

Euripides

Euripides. The Plays of Euripides, Translated into English Prose from the Text of Paley. Vol. I. Coleridge, Edward P., translator. London: George Bell and Sons, 1906.

  1. their whole life through;
    first with the thought how they may train them up in virtue, next how they shall leave their sons the means to live; and after all this ’tis far from clear whether on good or bad children they bestow their toil.
  2. But one last crowning woe for every mortal man I now will name; suppose that they have found sufficient means to live, and seen their children grow to man’s estate and walk in virtue’s path, still if
  3. fortune so befall,[*](Reading κυρήσει (Ald. et. Schol.). The MSS. vary between κυρήσας, σαι, σει.) comes Death and bears the children’s bodies off to Hades. Can it be any profit to the gods to heap upon us mortal men beside our other woes this further grief for children lost,
  4. a grief surpassing all?
Medea
  1. Kind friends, long have I waited expectantly to know how things would at the palace chance. And lo! I see one of Jason’s servants coming hither, whose hurried gasps for breath
  2. proclaim him the bearer of some fresh tidings.
Messenger
  1. Fly, fly, Medea! who hast wrought an awful deed, transgressing every law; nor leave behind or sea-borne bark or car that scours the plain.
Medea
  1. Why, what hath chanced that calls for such a flight of mine?
Messenger
  1. The princess is dead, a moment gone, and Creon too, her sire, slain by those drugs of thine.
Medea
  1. Tidings most fair are thine! Henceforth shalt thou be ranked amongst my friends and benefactors.
Messenger
  1. Ha! What? Art sane? Art not distraught, lady,
  2. who hearest with joy the outrage to our royal house done, and art not at the horrid tale afraid?
Medea
  1. Somewhat have I, too, to say in answer to thy words. Be not so hasty, friend, but tell the manner of their death, for thou wouldst give me double joy,
  2. if so they perished miserably.
Messenger
  1. When the children twain whom thou didst bear
    came with their father and entered the palace of the bride, right glad were we thralls who had shared thy griefs, for instantly from ear to ear a rumour spread
  2. that thou and thy lord had made up your former quarrel. One kissed thy children’s hands, another their golden hair, while I for very joy went with them in person to the women’s chambers. Our mistress, whom now we do revere in thy room,
  3. cast a longing glance at Jason, ere she saw thy children twain; but then she veiled her eyes and turned her blanching cheek away, disgusted at their coming; but thy husband
  4. tried to check his young bride’s angry humour with these words: O, be not angered ’gainst thy friends; cease from wrath and turn once more thy face this way, counting as friends whomso thy husband counts, and accept these gifts, and for my sake crave thy sire
  5. to remit these children’s exile. Soon as she saw the ornaments, no longer she held out, but yielded to her lord in all; and ere the father and his sons were far from the palace gone, she took the broidered robe and put it on,
  6. and set the golden crown about her tresses, arranging her hair at her bright mirror, with many a happy smile at her breathless counterfeit. Then rising from her seat she passed across the chamber, tripping lightly on her fair white foot,