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. On thy house too maybe I bring the curse.
Jason
  1. Know this, I will no further dispute this point with thee.
  2. But, if thou wilt of my fortune somewhat take for the children or thyself to help thy exile, say on; for I am ready to grant it with ungrudging hand, yea and to send tokens to my friends elsewhere who shall treat thee well. If thou refuse this offer, thou wilt do a foolish deed,
  3. but if thou cease from anger the greater will be thy gain.
Medea
  1. I will have naught to do with friends of thine, naught will I receive of thee, offer it not to me; a villain’s gifts can bring no blessing.
Jason
  1. At least I call the gods to witness,
  2. that I am ready in all things to serve thee and thy children, but thou dost scorn my favours and thrustest thy friends stubbornly away; wherefore thy lot will be more bitter still.
Medea
  1. Away! By love for thy young bride entrapped, too long thou lingerest outside her chamber;
  2. go wed, for, if God will, thou shalt have such a marriage as thou wouldst fain refuse.
Chorus
  1. When in excess and past all limits Love doth come, he brings not glory or repute
  2. to man; but if the Cyprian queen in moderate might approach, no goddess is so full of charm as she. Never, O never, lady mine, discharge at me from thy golden bow a shaft invincible, in passion’s venom dipped.
Chorus
  1. On me may chastity, heaven’s fairest gift, look[*](Verrall proposes to read στέγοι protect, for MSS. στέργοι.) with a favouring eye;
  2. never may Cypris, goddess dread, fasten on me a temper to dispute, or restless jealousy, smiting my soul with mad desire for unlawful love, but may she hallow peaceful married life and shrewdly decide whom each of us shall wed.
Chorus
  1. O my country, O my own dear home! God grant I may never be an outcast from my city,
  2. leading that cruel helpless life, whose every day is misery. Ere that may I this life complete and yield to death, ay, death;
  3. for there is no misery that doth surpass the loss of fatherland.
Chorus
  1. I have seen with mine eyes, nor from the lips of others have I the lesson learnt;
  2. no city, not one friend doth pity thee in this thine awful woe. May he perish and find no favour,
  3. whoso hath not in him honour for his friends, freely unlocking his heart to them. Never shall he be friend of mine.
Aegeus
  1. All hail, Medea! no man knoweth fairer prelude to the greeting of friends than this.
Medea
  1. All hail to thee likewise, Aegeus, son of wise Pandion. Whence comest thou to this land?
Aegeus
  1. From Phoebus’ ancient oracle.