Synopsis<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n After the adventures of the Golden Fleece, the Greek hero\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0took his wife\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0into exile at Corinth. However, he then left her, seeking to advance his political ambitions by marrying\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>, the daughter of King Creon of Corinth<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n The play opens with\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0grieving over the loss of her husband's love. Her elderly nurse and the Chorus of Corinthian women (generally sympathetic to her plight) fear what she might do to herself or her children.\u00a0King Creon<\/span><\/a>, also fearing what\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0might do, banishes her, declaring that she and her children must leave Corinth immediately.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0begs for mercy, and is granted a reprieve of one day, all she needs to extract her revenge. Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0arrives and attempts to explain himself. He says that he does not love\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0but cannot pass up the opportunity to marry a wealthy and royal princess (Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0is from Colchis in the Caucasus and is considered a barbarian witch by the Greeks), and claims that he hopes one day to join the two families and keep\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0as his mistress.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and the Chorus of Corinthian women do not believe him. She reminds him that she left her own people for him, murdering her own brother for his sake, so that she can never now return home. She also reminds him that it was she herself who saved him and slew the dragon which guarded the Golden Fleece, but he is unmoved, merely offering to placate her with gifts.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0hints darkly that he may live to regret his decision, and secretly plans to kill both\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n Medea<\/a>\u00a0is then visited by\u00a0Aegeus<\/span><\/a>, the childless king of Athens, who asks the renowned sorceress to help his wife conceive a child. In return,\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0asks for his protection and, although\u00a0Aegeus<\/span><\/a>\u00a0is not aware of\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u2019s plans for revenge, he promises to give her refuge if she can escape to Athens.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n Medea<\/a>\u00a0tells the Chorus of her plans to poison a golden robe (a family heirloom and gift from the sun god, Helios) which she believes the vain\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0will not be able to resist wearing. She resolves to kill her own children as well, not because the children have done anything wrong, but as the best way her tortured mind can think of to hurt\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>. She calls for\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0once more, pretends to apologize to him and sends the poisoned robe and crown as a gift to\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>, with her children as the gift-bearers.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n As\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0ponders her actions, a messenger arrives to relate the wild success of her plan.\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a> has been killed by the poisoned robe, and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>\u00a0has also been killed by the poison while attempting to save her, both daughter and father dying in excruciating pain. She wrestles with herself over whether she can bring herself to kill her own children too, speaking lovingly to them all the while in a moving and chilling scene. After a moment of hesitation, she eventually justifies it as a way of saving them from the retribution of\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>\u2019s family. As the Chorus of women laments her decision, the children are heard screaming. The Chorus considers interfering, but in the end does nothing.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n Jason<\/a>\u00a0discovers the murder of\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and rushes to the scene to punish\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>, only to learn that his children too have been killed.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0appears in the chariot of Artemis, with the corpses of her children, mocking and gloating over\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u2019s pain. She prophesies a bad end for Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0too before escaping towards Athens with her children\u2019s bodies. The play ends with the Chorus lamenting that such tragic and unexpected evils should result from the will of the gods.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\r\n \r\n Scene\u00a0<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\nBefore MEDEA's house in Corinth, near the palace Of CREON. The NURSE enters from the house.\r\n<\/i>\r\n\r\n \r\n NURSE<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Ah! Would to Heaven the good ship Argo ne'er had sped its course\u00a0to the Colchian land through the misty blue Symplegades, nor ever in the\u00a0glens of Pelion the pine been felled to furnish with oars the chieftain's\u00a0hands, who went to fetch the golden fleece for Pelias; for then would my\u00a0own mistress Medea never have sailed to the turrets of Iolcos, her soul\u00a0with love for Jason smitten, nor would she have beguiled the daughters\u00a0of Pelias to slay their father and come to live here in the land of Corinth\u00a0with her husband and children, where her exile found favour with the citizens\u00a0to whose land she had come, and in all things of her own accord was she\u00a0at one with Jason, the greatest safeguard this when wife and husband do\u00a0agree; but now their love is all turned to hate, and tenderest ties are\u00a0weak. For Jason hath betrayed his own children and my mistress dear for\u00a0the love of a royal bride, for he hath wedded the daughter of Creon, lord\u00a0of this land. While Medea, his hapless wife, thus scorned, appeals to the\u00a0oaths he swore, recalls the strong pledge his right hand gave, and bids\u00a0heaven be witness what requital she is finding from Jason. And here she\u00a0lies fasting, yielding her body to her grief, wasting away in tears ever\u00a0since she learnt that she was wronged by her husband, never lifting her\u00a0eye nor raising her face from off the ground; and she lends as deaf an\u00a0ear to her friend's warning as if she were a rock or ocean billow, save\u00a0when she turns her snow-white neck aside and softly to herself bemoans\u00a0her father dear, her country and her home, which she gave up to come hither\u00a0with the man who now holds her in dishonour. She, poor lady, hath by sad\u00a0experience learnt how good a thing it is never to quit one's native land.\u00a0And she hates her children now and feels no joy at seeing them; I fear\u00a0she may contrive some untoward scheme; for her mood is dangerous nor will\u00a0she brook her cruel treatment; full well I know her, and I much do dread\u00a0that she will plunge the keen sword through their hearts, stealing without\u00a0a word into the chamber where their marriage couch is spread, or else that\u00a0she will slay the prince and bridegroom too, and so find some calamity\u00a0still more grievous than the present; for dreadful is her wrath; verily\u00a0the man that doth incur her hate will have no easy task to raise o'er her\u00a0a song of triumph. Lo! where her sons come hither from their childish sports;\u00a0little they reck of their mother's woes, for the soul of the young is no\u00a0friend to sorrow.<\/span><\/p>\r\n The ATTENDANT leads in MEDEA'S children.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\r\n \u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n As the CHORUS finishes its song, MEDEA enters from the\u00a0house.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n From the house I have come forth, Corinthian ladies, for fear\u00a0lest you be blaming me; for well I know that amongst men many by showing\u00a0pride have gotten them an ill name and a reputation for indifference, both\u00a0those who shun men's gaze and those who move amid the stranger crowd, and likewise they who choose a quiet walk in life. For there is no just discernment\u00a0in the eyes of men, for they, or ever they have surely learnt their neighbour's\u00a0heart, loathe him at first sight, though never wronged by him; and so a\u00a0stranger most of all should adopt a city's views; nor do I commend that\u00a0citizen, who, in the stubbornness of his heart, from churlishness resents\u00a0the city's will.<\/span><\/p>\r\nBut on me hath fallen this unforeseen disaster, and sapped my life;\u00a0ruined I am, and long to resign the boon of existence, kind friends, and\u00a0die. For he who was all the world to me, as well thou knowest, hath turned\u00a0out the worst of men, my own husband. Of all things that have life and\u00a0sense we women are the most hapless creatures; first must we buy a husband\u00a0at a great price, and o'er ourselves a tyrant set which is an evil worse\u00a0than the first; and herein lies the most important issue, whether our choice\u00a0be good or bad. For divorce is not honourable to women, nor can we disown\u00a0our lords. Next must the wife, coming as she does to ways and customs new,\u00a0since she hath not learnt the lesson in her home, have a diviner's eye\u00a0to see how best to treat the partner of her life. If haply we perform these\u00a0tasks with thoroughness and tact, and the husband live with us, without\u00a0resenting the yoke, our life is a happy one; if not, 'twere best to die.\u00a0But when a man is vexed with what he finds indoors, he goeth forth and\u00a0rids his soul of its disgust, betaking him to some friend or comrade of\u00a0like age; whilst we must needs regard his single self.\r\n\r\nAnd yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the\u00a0wars, with their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand in battle\u00a0array three times o'er, than once give birth. But enough! this language\u00a0suits not thee as it does me; thou hast a city here, a father's house,\u00a0some joy in life, and friends to share thy thoughts, but I am destitute,\u00a0without a city, and therefore scorned by my husband, a captive I from a\u00a0foreign shore, with no mother, brother, or kinsman in whom to find a new\u00a0haven of refuge from this calamity. Wherefore this one boon and only this\u00a0I wish to win from thee,\u2014thy silence, if haply I can some way or means\u00a0devise to avenge me on my husband for this cruel treatment, and on the\u00a0man who gave to him his daughter, and on her who is his wife. For though\u00a0woman be timorous enough in all else, and as regards courage, a coward\u00a0at the mere sight of steel, yet in the moment she finds her honour wronged,\u00a0no heart is filled with deadlier thoughts than hers.\r\n \u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n JASON<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n It is not now I first remark, but oft ere this, how unruly\u00a0a pest is a harsh temper. For instance, thou, hadst thou but patiently\u00a0endured the will of thy superiors, mightest have remained here in this\u00a0land and house, but now for thy idle words wilt thou be banished. Thy words\u00a0are naught to me. Cease not to call Jason basest of men; but for those\u00a0words thou hast spoken against our rulers, count it all again that exile\u00a0is thy only punishment. I ever tried to check the outbursts of the angry\u00a0monarch, and would have had thee stay, but thou wouldst not forego thy\u00a0silly rage, always reviling our rulers, and so thou wilt be banished. Yet\u00a0even after all this I weary not of my goodwill, but am come with thus much\u00a0forethought, lady, that thou mayst not be destitute nor want for aught,\u00a0when, with thy sons, thou art cast out. Many an evil doth exile bring in\u00a0its train with it; for even though thou hatest me, never will I harbour\u00a0hard thoughts of thee.<\/span><\/p>\r\n MEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Thou craven villain (for that is the only name my tongue can\u00a0find for thee, a foul reproach on thy unmanliness), comest thou to me,\u00a0thou, most hated foe of gods, of me, and of all mankind? 'Tis no proof\u00a0of courage or hardihood to confront thy friends after injuring them, but\u00a0that worst of all human diseases\u2014loss of shame. Yet hast thou done well\u00a0to come; for I shall ease my soul by reviling thee, and thou wilt be vexed\u00a0at my recital. I will begin at the very beginning. I saved thy life, as\u00a0every Hellene knows who sailed with thee aboard the good ship Argo, when\u00a0thou wert sent to tame and yoke fire-breathing bulls, and to sow the deadly\u00a0tilth. Yea, and I slew the dragon which guarded the golden fleece, keeping\u00a0sleepless watch o'er it with many a wreathed coil, and I raised for thee\u00a0a beacon of deliverance. Father and home of my free will I left and came\u00a0with the to Iolcos, beneath Pelion's hills, for my love was stronger than\u00a0my prudence. Next I caused the death of Pelias by a doom most grievous,\u00a0even by his own children's hand, beguiling them of all their fear. All\u00a0this have I done for thee, thou traitor! and thou hast cast me over, taking\u00a0to thyself another wife, though children have been born to us. Hadst thou\u00a0been childless still, I could have pardoned thy desire for this new union.\u00a0Gone is now the trust I put in oaths. I cannot even understand whether\u00a0thou thinkest that the gods of old no longer rule, or that fresh decrees\u00a0are now in vogue amongst mankind, for thy conscience must tell thee thou\u00a0hast not kept faith with me. Ah! poor right hand, which thou didst often\u00a0grasp. These knees thou didst embrace! All in vain, I suffered a traitor\u00a0to touch me! How short of my hopes I am fallen! But come, I will deal with\u00a0the as though thou wert my friend. Yet what kindness can I expect from\u00a0one so base as thee? But yet I will do it, for my questioning will show\u00a0thee yet more base. Whither can I turn me now? to my father's house, to\u00a0my own country, which I for thee deserted to come hither? to the hapless\u00a0daughters of Pelias? A glad welcome, I trow, would they give me in their\u00a0home, whose father's death I compassed! My case stands even thus: I am\u00a0become the bitter foe to those of mine own home, and those whom I need\u00a0ne'er have wronged I have made mine enemies to pleasure thee. Wherefore\u00a0to reward me for this thou hast made me doubly blest in the eyes of many\u00a0wife in Hellas; and in thee I own a peerless, trusty lord. O woe is me,\u00a0if indeed I am to be cast forth an exile from the land, without one friend;\u00a0one lone woman with her babes forlorn! Yea, a fine reproach to thee in\u00a0thy bridal hour, that thy children and the wife who saved thy life are\u00a0beggars and vagabonds! O Zeus! why hast thou granted unto man clear signs\u00a0to know the sham in gold, while on man's brow no brand is stamped whereby\u00a0to gauge the villain's heart?<\/span><\/p>\r\n \u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n MEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n I am undone, and more than that, am banished from the land.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nAEGEUS<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n By whom? fresh woe this word of thine unfolds.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Creon drives me forth in exile from Corinth.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nAEGEUS<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Doth Jason allow it? This too I blame him for.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Not in words, but he will not stand out against it. O, I implore\u00a0thee by this beard and by thy knees, in suppliant posture, pity, O pity\u00a0my sorrows; do not see me cast forth forlorn, but receive me in thy country,\u00a0to a seat within thy halls. So may thy wish by heaven's grace be crowned\u00a0with a full harvest of offspring, and may thy life close in happiness!\u00a0Thou knowest not the rare good luck thou findest here, for I will make\u00a0thy childlessness to cease and cause thee to beget fair issue; so potent\u00a0are the spells I know.<\/span><\/p>\r\n AEGEUS<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Lady, on many grounds I am most fain to grant thee this thy\u00a0boon, first for the gods' sake, next for the children whom thou dost promise\u00a0I shall beget; for in respect of this I am completely lost. 'Tis thus with\u00a0me; if e'er thou reach my land, I will attempt to champion thee as I am\u00a0bound to do. Only one warning I do give thee first, lady; I will not from\u00a0this land bear thee away, yet if of thyself thou reach my halls, there\u00a0shalt thou bide in safety and I will never yield thee up to any man. But\u00a0from this land escape without my aid, for I have no wish to incur the blame\u00a0of my allies as well.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n It shall be even so; but wouldst thou pledge thy word to this,\u00a0I should in all be well content with thee.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nAEGEUS<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Surely thou dost trust me? or is there aught that troubles\u00a0thee?<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Thee I trust; but Pelias' house and Creon are my foes. Wherefore,\u00a0if thou art bound by an oath, thou wilt not give me up to them when they\u00a0come to drag me from the land, but, having entered into a compact and sworn\u00a0by heaven as well, thou wilt become my friend and disregard their overtures. Weak is any aid of mine, whilst they have wealth and a princely house.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nAEGEUS<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Lady, thy words show much foresight, so if this is thy will,\u00a0I do not, refuse. For I shall feel secure and safe if I have some pretext\u00a0to offer to thy foes, and thy case too the firmer stands. Now name thy\u00a0gods.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \u2026<\/span><\/p>\r\n ATTENDANT<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n Thou art not the only mother from thy children bereft. Bear patiently\u00a0thy troubles as a mortal must.<\/span><\/p>\r\n \r\nMEDEA<\/b><\/span><\/p>\r\n I will obey; go thou within the house and make the day's provision\u00a0for the children.<\/span><\/p>\r\n The ATTENDANT enters the house. MEDEA turns to the\u00a0children.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\r\n O my babes, my babes, ye have still a city and a home, where far from me\u00a0and my sad lot you will live your lives, reft of your mother for ever;\u00a0while I must to another land in banishment, or ever I have had my joy of\u00a0you, or lived to see you happy, or ever I have graced your marriage couch,\u00a0your bride, your bridal bower, or lifted high the wedding torch. Ah me!\u00a0a victim of my own self-will. So it was all in vain I reared you, O my\u00a0sons; in vain did suffer, racked with anguish, enduring the cruel pangs\u00a0of childbirth. 'Fore Heaven I once had hope, poor me! high hope of ye that\u00a0you would nurse me in my age and deck my corpse with loving hands, a boon\u00a0we mortals covet; but now is my sweet fancy dead and gone; for I must lose\u00a0you both and in bitterness and sorrow drag through life. And ye shall never\u00a0with fond eyes see your mother more for o'er your life there comes a change.Ah me! ah me! why do ye look at me so, my children? why smile that last\u00a0sweet smile? Ah me! what am I to do? My heart gives way when I behold my\u00a0children's laughing eyes. O, I cannot; farewell to all my former schemes;\u00a0I will take the children from the land, the babes I bore. Why should Iwound their sire by wounding them, and get me a twofold measure of sorrow?\u00a0No, no, I will not do it. Farewell my scheming! And yet what possesses\u00a0me? Can I consent to let those foes of mine escape from punishment, and\u00a0incur their mockery? I must face this deed. Out upon my craven heart! to\u00a0think that I should even have let the soft words escape my soul. Into the\u00a0house, children!<\/span><\/p>\r\n The children go into the house.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\r\n And whoso feels he must not be present at my sacrifice, must see to it\u00a0himself; I will not spoil my handiwork. Ah! ah! do not, my heart, O do\u00a0not do this deed! Let the children go, unhappy one, spare the babes! For\u00a0if they live, they will cheer thee in our exile there. Nay, by the fiends\u00a0of hell's abyss, never, never will I hand my children over to their foes\u00a0to mock and flout. Die they must in any case, and since 'tis so, why I,\u00a0the mother who bore them, will give the fatal blow. In any case their doom\u00a0is fixed and there is no escape. Already the crown is on her head, the\u00a0robe is round her, and she is dying, the royal bride; that do I know full\u00a0well. But now since I have a piteous path to tread, and yet more piteous\u00a0still the path I send my children on, fain would I say farewell to them.<\/span><\/p>\r\n The children come out at her call. She takes them in her\u00a0arms.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\r\n O my babes, my babes, let your mother kiss your hands. Ah! hands I love\u00a0so well, O lips most dear to me! O noble form and features of my children,\u00a0I wish ye joy, but in that other land, for here your father robs you of\u00a0your home. O the sweet embrace, the soft young cheek, the fragrant breath!my children! Go, leave me; I cannot bear to longer look upon ye; my sorrow\u00a0wins the day. At last I understand the awful deed I am to do; but passion,\u00a0that cause of direst woes to mortal man, hath triumphed o'er my sober thoughts.<\/span><\/p>\r\n She goes into the house with the children.<\/i><\/span><\/p>","rendered":" by Euripides (c. 431 BC)<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Synopsis<\/b><\/span><\/p>\n After the adventures of the Golden Fleece, the Greek hero\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0took his wife\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0into exile at Corinth. However, he then left her, seeking to advance his political ambitions by marrying\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>, the daughter of King Creon of Corinth<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n The play opens with\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0grieving over the loss of her husband’s love. Her elderly nurse and the Chorus of Corinthian women (generally sympathetic to her plight) fear what she might do to herself or her children.\u00a0King Creon<\/span><\/a>, also fearing what\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0might do, banishes her, declaring that she and her children must leave Corinth immediately.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0begs for mercy, and is granted a reprieve of one day, all she needs to extract her revenge. Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0arrives and attempts to explain himself. He says that he does not love\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0but cannot pass up the opportunity to marry a wealthy and royal princess (Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0is from Colchis in the Caucasus and is considered a barbarian witch by the Greeks), and claims that he hopes one day to join the two families and keep\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0as his mistress.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and the Chorus of Corinthian women do not believe him. She reminds him that she left her own people for him, murdering her own brother for his sake, so that she can never now return home. She also reminds him that it was she herself who saved him and slew the dragon which guarded the Golden Fleece, but he is unmoved, merely offering to placate her with gifts.\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0hints darkly that he may live to regret his decision, and secretly plans to kill both\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Medea<\/a>\u00a0is then visited by\u00a0Aegeus<\/span><\/a>, the childless king of Athens, who asks the renowned sorceress to help his wife conceive a child. In return,\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0asks for his protection and, although\u00a0Aegeus<\/span><\/a>\u00a0is not aware of\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u2019s plans for revenge, he promises to give her refuge if she can escape to Athens.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n Medea<\/a>\u00a0tells the Chorus of her plans to poison a golden robe (a family heirloom and gift from the sun god, Helios) which she believes the vain\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>\u00a0will not be able to resist wearing. She resolves to kill her own children as well, not because the children have done anything wrong, but as the best way her tortured mind can think of to hurt\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>. She calls for\u00a0Jason<\/span><\/a>\u00a0once more, pretends to apologize to him and sends the poisoned robe and crown as a gift to\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a>, with her children as the gift-bearers.<\/span><\/em><\/p>\n As\u00a0Medea<\/span><\/a>\u00a0ponders her actions, a messenger arrives to relate the wild success of her plan.\u00a0Glauce<\/span><\/a> has been killed by the poisoned robe, and\u00a0Creon<\/span><\/a>\u00a0has also been killed by the poison while attempting to save her, both daughter and father dying in excruciating pain. She wrestles with herself over whether she can bring herself to kill her own children too, speaking lovingly to them all the while in a moving and chilling scene. After a moment of hesitation, she eventually justifies it as a way of saving them from the retribution of\u00a0Medea (selections)<\/h3>\n