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. I too will aid thee in this task, for by the children’s hand I will send to her gifts that far surpass in beauty, I well know, aught that now is seen ’mongst men, a robe of finest tissue and a chaplet of chased gold.
  2. But one of my attendants must haste and bring the ornaments hither. Happy shall she be not once alone but ten thousandfold, for in thee she wins the noblest soul to share her love, and gets these gifts as well which on a day my father’s sire, the Sun-god,
  3. bestowed on his descendants. My children, take in your hands these wedding gifts, and bear them as an offering to the royal maid, the happy bride; for verily the gifts she shall receive are not to be scorned.
Jason
  1. But why so rashly rob thyself of these gifts?
  2. Dost think a royal palace wants for robes or gold? Keep them, nor give them to another. For well I know that if my lady hold me in esteem, she will set my price above all wealth.
Medea
  1. Say not so; ’tis said that gifts tempt even gods;
  2. and o’er men’s minds gold holds more potent sway than countless words. Fortune smiles upon thy bride, and heaven now doth swell her triumph; youth is hers and princely power; yet to save my children from exile I would barter life, not dross alone. Children, when ye are come to the rich palace,
  3. pray your father’s new bride, my mistress, with suppliant voice to save you from exile, offering her these ornaments the while; for it is most needful that she receive the gifts in her own hand. Now go and linger not; may ye succeed and to your mother bring back
  4. the glad tidings she fain would hear!
Chorus
  1. Gone, gone is every hope I had that the children yet might live; forth to their doom they now proceed. The hapless bride will take, ay, take the golden crown that is to
    be her ruin;
  2. with her own hand will she lift and place upon her golden locks the garniture of death.
Chorus
  1. Its grace and sheen divine will tempt her to put on the robe and crown of gold,
  2. and in that act will she deck herself to be a bride amid the dead. Such is the snare whereinto she will fall, such is the deadly doom that waits the hapless maid, nor shall she from the curse escape.
Chorus
  1. And thou, poor wretch, who to thy sorrow art wedding a king’s daughter, little thinkest of the doom thou art bringing on thy children’s life, or of the cruel death that waits thy bride.
  2. Woe is thee! how art thou fallen from thy high estate!
Chorus
  1. Next do I bewail thy sorrows, O mother hapless in thy children, thou who wilt slay thy babes because thou hast a rival, the babes
  2. thy husband hath deserted impiously to join him to another bride.
Attendant
  1. Thy children, lady, are from exile freed, and gladly did the royal bride accept thy gifts in her own hands, and so thy children made their peace with her.
Medea
  1. Ah!
Attendant
  1. Why art so disquieted in thy prosperous hour? Why turnest thou thy cheek away, and hast no welcome for my glad news?
Medea
  1. Ah me!