by Seneca
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and not turn back towards the east, trace back the day?
Give me the power to ride my father’s horses through the air,
Grandfather, give me the reins, and let me guide
with flaming harnesses the fiery team.
Let Corinth, whose twin shores now block the gulf,
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medea
burn up in flames and join two seas in one.
Just one more thing: I have to take the torch
to the marriage room myself; after the prayers,
I will be the one to kill the victims on the altar.
Find out a path to vengeance even in the entrails,
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my soul, if you are still alive, if you retain
any of your old strength. Away with feminine fears,
dress up your mind like your own cruel home.*
All the horrors witnessed back at home by the Black Sea,
Corinth will see now. Evils to make
heaven and earth both shudder equally
are what my mind revolves: wounding, murder, death
creeping through the limbs. But all this is too slight;
I did those as a girl. Let weightier rage swell up:
now I have given birth, my crimes ought to increase.
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Take on the armour of anger, prepare for destruction
possessed by fury. The tale of your divorce
must match your marriage. How should you leave your man?
The same way that you married him. Enough delay.
A family formed by crime must be broken by more crime.
chorus Come to the royal wedding, all you gods,
lords of the sky, lords of the sea, and bless them,
while the people stand in respectful silence.
First a white bull must hold high his neck
for sacrifice to the royal Thunderer.*
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Then a snowy cow that never felt the yoke
should satisfy Juno with her death; and give
the goddess who restrains the bloody hands of Mars,*
who brings to warring peoples peace
and holds rich plenty in her horn,
give her a soft lamb and melt her heart.
And you, who bless all legal weddings,*
dispel the night and bring them luck,
come here with slow and drunken steps
a wreath of roses on your head.
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And you the messenger of double times,*
star whose return seems always slow to lovers:
mothers long for you, as do their daughters,
wanting your shining rays to shine for them right away.
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medea
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This girl’s beauty far surpasses
all the brides of Athens,
and the women who exercise
like boys, by the mountains of Taygetus,
by the city without a wall,*
and Boeotian women, and those washed
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by holy Alpheus.*
If he wants to be judged by looks,
the commander, Aeson’s son,*
would win against the child of thunder,*
whose chariot tigers draw,
and the shaker of the tripods,
the fearsome virgin’s brother.*
Castor will yield to him,
with Pollux, better boxer.*
Just so, just so, O gods, who live in heaven, I pray,
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his woman may outshine all other wives,
and he by far surpass all other men.
When this girl takes up her place in the women’s dance,
her beauty, hers alone outshines them all:
just as the beauty of the stars is lost at sunrise,
and the thick flocks of the Pleiades lie hid
when Phoebe* binds with borrowed light
her solid orb with circling horns;
as snow-white colour blushes, dyed
with scarlet; like the shining light
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the dew-wet shepherd sees at dawn.
Jason, you used to tremble as you held an untamed wife,
reluctant as you held her body close;
now torn away from your barbarian marriage,
lucky man, take hold of this Corinthian girl.
Your in-laws — unlike last time — give consent.
Young men, now play around, and slander whomever you like;
sing your songs in choruses and rounds.
Abusing masters is, for once, allowed.*
Hymen, noble and bright, son of Bacchus with his thyrsus, 110
the time is at hand to set light to the torch made of finely split
pinewood.
Shake out with your languorous fingers prescribed ceremonial fire.
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medea
Pour forth festive abuse in sharp-tongued verses;
let the crowd be free with their jokes. But a woman who marries
a stranger,
running away from her homeland — let her go to the silent shadows.
ACT TWO
medea I am done for. Wedding music struck my ears.
Such cruelty! Even I can scarce believe it.
Could Jason do this, with my father gone,
my land and kingdom lost? Abandon me, alone in a foreign land,
unfeeling man! Did he scorn my achievements,
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when he has seen how sin can conquer flames and sea?
Does he believe my evil powers so lost?
What should I do? Madness is driving me
in all directions. How can I be avenged?
If only he, too, had a brother! But — he has a wife.
Stab her in the heart. But can this answer my pain?
If any cities, Greek or barbarous,
know of a crime your hands have not yet done,
now is the time for it. Your past crimes urge you,
and let them all return. — The golden glory of the kingdom
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stolen,* and the wicked girl’s young playmate
ripped by the sword,* his murder forced upon his father’s sight,
his body scattered on the sea, and old Pelias’
limbs cooked up in a bronze pot.* How much blood
I have shed by murder! When I did this
I was not even angry; I was driven by painful love.
But what could Jason do? Another’s rule and power
forces him to this. — He should have bared his breast
to meet his sword. — Ah, no, find better words,
my raging grief ! If he can, let him live, still mine,
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just as he used to be. If not — still let him live,
remember me, and spare the life which once I gave him.
Creon is to blame. His untamed lust for power
is breaking up my marriage, tearing a mother
away from her children, ripping a close-knit trust.
Let him be hunted down, may he alone
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medea
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pay as he deserves. I will heap deep ashes on his house.
The dangerous curving coast of Malea*
will see the black crest driven by the flames.
nurse Silence, I beg you! Hide your grievances
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in a secret bitterness. If one can bear deep wounds
with patient, quiet endurance and a mellow heart,
one can get payback: hidden anger hurts;
the hate you speak of will not be revenged.
medea Light is the grief which can accept advice,
and mask itself; great troubles do not hide.
I want confrontation.
nurse
Stop this crazy passion!
Mistress, even silence scarcely saves you.
medea Fortune fears the brave and crushes cowards.
nurse: Try valour at a time when valour has its place.
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medea It is never inappropriate to be brave.
nurse No hope reveals a way out from our troubles.
medea The one who knows no hope knows no despair.
nurse Your friends from Colchis, and your husband’s faith
Are gone; nothing survives of all your wealth.
medea Medea still survives. Here you behold
the sea, the earth, sword, flame, the gods, and thunder.
nurse But fear the king!
medea
My father was a king.
nurse You fear no arms?
medea
Not even earth-born soldiers.*
nurse You will die.
medea
I want to.
nurse
Run away!
medea
Enough of running.
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nurse Medea —
medea
I will be.
nurse
You are a mother!
medea
By you-know-who.
nurse Hurry, escape!
medea
I will, but first, revenge.
nurse Vengeance will follow.
medea
I may slow it down.
nurse Hold back your words, madwoman, stop your threats,
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medea
bridle your heart; it is best to suit the times.
medea Fortune can take my wealth away, but not my spirit.
But who is this, making the doorway creak?
It is Creon himself, puffed up with his power in Greece.
creon Medea, poisonous child of Colchian Aeetes,
have you not yet got yourself away from my kingdom? —
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She is up to something; I know her cunning, her history.
Whom will she pity, whom will she leave safe?
I had intended to eliminate this infection once and for all,
to put her to the sword; my son-in-law begged mercy.
Life is granted her, now let her free from fear
my country. Go in safety. — Wild thing! She wants to attack me;
she threatens me, comes nearer, wants to talk.
Stop her, you guards, keep her away, no touching;
tell her to be quiet. Time she learnt to submit
to royal power. Go quickly on your way!
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This monster has been here too long; take it away!
medea What charge is there against me, punished by exile?
creon An innocent woman asks why she is expelled!
medea If you are judging, seek the truth. If ruling, give your orders.
creon You must submit to power, just or unjust.
medea Kingdoms which act unjustly never last.
creon Go complain in Colchis.
medea
I am going. But the man
who brought me here should take me home.
creon
Too late; my decision
is made.
medea A man who makes a decision without listening to both sides
is unjust, even if his ruling is a fair one.
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creon Did you hear Pelias before you punished him?
But speak, let your great case be given a chance.
medea How difficult it is to turn a mind from wrath
when once it is aroused! When arrogant hands once seize
power, the ruler thinks authority resides
in stubbornness. All this I learnt in my own royal home.
Though pitiless disaster overwhelms me,
though exiled, abandoned, abject, and alone,
troubled on every side, once I shone bright,
born from a glorious father, descended from the Sun.
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medea
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Lands made wet by Phasis, gently winding through,
places seen by Scythian Pontus behind its back,
and where the seas grow sweet with marshland water,
and where the riverbanks of Thermodon enclose
the ranks of women warriors,* terrifying,
with their crescent shields — all this my father ruled.
I had high birth, good luck, and royal power;
I shone in glory; suitors sought my hand
who now are sought by me. Fortune is swift and fickle,
headlong, she snatched me from my kingdom and gave
me to exile.
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Put trust in royal power, when fickle chance
carries your treasure to the winds! The greatest wealth of kings,
a joy forever, is to help the weak,
and shelter suppliants, give them a home.
This is the only thing I brought from all my kingdom:
that it was I who saved the glorious flower of Greece,
the guardians of Achaea, sons of gods:
I am their saviour. Orpheus is my gift,
who softens stones with song and leads the woods;
Castor and Pollux, double gift, are mine,
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mine are the sons of Boreas, and he whose darting eyes
can see across the Pontus, Lynceus,
and all the Argonauts. Their leader — I pass by.
No thanks are due for him, no debt is owed;
I brought back all the rest for you, just him for me.
Go on, heap all my misdeeds on my head:
I will confess: but this is my one crime:
the Argo’s safe return. Should that girl stay a virgin,
obey her father? Then the whole Greek land
is lost, as are its leaders, and he first — your son-in-law —
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will die, in the flaming jaws of the savage bull.
Let Fortune press what charge she will upon me,
to have saved such heroes needs no saying sorry.
Whatever prize I won from all my crimes
is in your hands; condemn me if you wish,
but give back my sin. I am guilty, I confess it;
Creon, you knew it when I knelt and begged
for safety and protection at your hands.
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medea
I ask some little corner, a poor hovel, home for pain,
but in this land; if you drive me from the city,
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grant me some distant place within your kingdom.
creon I have provided quite sufficient proof
that I am obviously not a tyrant,
the kind to trample wretchedness with lordly foot.
I chose an exile as my son-in-law:
he was in trouble, shaking, terrified:
Acastus,* heir of Thessaly, said he should die.
His grudge was that his trembling weak old father
was murdered, and his old limbs torn apart:
his sisters were deceived by you to dare
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this treachery to the father that they loved.
Jason has a case, if you remove yourself;
no innocent blood pollutes him, and his hands
kept clear of the sword. He is clean,
as long as he is not tainted by your company.
You! You scheming source of every criminal act
you have a woman’s wickedness; your daring
shows masculine strength, ignoring what men say.
Go, wash clean the kingdom, and take with you
your deadly drugs. Free citizens from fear;
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stay in some other country to bother the gods.
medea You force me to leave? Then give back my ship
or give me back my friend. Why tell me to go alone?
I did not come alone. If you fear war,
t
hen drive us both from your kingdom. Why do you separate us?
Both are guilty. Pelias died for him, not me.
Charge him with theft, desertion, my abandoned father,
my brother torn apart, all the new crimes
which even now he teaches his new brides — did not do them.
I have done so much harm, but never for myself.
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creon You should have left by now. Why spin things out with talk?
medea I am on my way, but please, one final favour:
do not make my innocent children suffer for their mother’s guilt.
creon Go! I will hold and cherish them like a father.
medea By the happy royal marriage bed,
its future hopes, and by the state of kings,
which fickle Fortune shakes this way and that,
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medea
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I beg you grant brief respite for my exile;
I am a mother; let me kiss my children one last time.
I may be close to death.
creon
You want the time to plot.
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medea What fear of plots in such brief span of time?
creon No time is too short for criminals to do wrong.
medea You will not grant a poor, unhappy woman time to weep?
creon Although my deep-set fear fights back against your prayers,
yes, have a single day, to ready yourself for exile.
medea It is too much, you can cut back the time;
I too am in a hurry.
creon
On pain of death
you must leave the Isthmus before the light of dawn.
Now I am summoned by the marriage rites
and Hymen’s holy day calls me to prayer.
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chorus That man was too bold who first in a boat —
so fragile a boat—on the treacherous waves,
went watching his homeland receding behind him
as he trusted his life to the changeable winds;
his direction uncertain, he cut through the waters,
putting his faith in the delicate wood,
though too slender a boundary made the division
between the alternatives, life and death.
The constellations were still unknown,
and the bright stars with which heaven is painted
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remained unused. No boat could yet
avoid the rainy Hyades.
The shining she-goat, Capella,
and the Plough, which the slow old man
both follows and controls,* and Boreas,
and Zephyr — none of these yet
had names.
Tiphys had the courage to spread out his canvas sails
to the vast ocean
and to prescribe new laws for the winds;
