Medea (520-598)

There is a something terrible and past all cure, when quarrels arise ’twixt those who are near and dear.

Needs must I now, it seems, turn orator, and, like a good helmsman on a ship with close-reefed sails, weather

that wearisome tongue of thine. Now, I believe, since thou wilt exaggerate thy favours, that to Cypris alone of gods or men I owe the safety of my voyage. Thou hast a subtle wit enough; yet were it a hateful thing for me

to say that the Love-god constrained thee by his resistless shaft to save my life. However, I will not reckon this too nicely; ’twas kindly done, however thou didst serve me. Yet for my safety

hast thou received more than ever thou gavest, as I will show. First, thou dwellest in Hellas, instead of thy barbarian land, and hast learnt what justice means find how to live by law, not by the dictates of brute force; and all the Hellenes recognize thy cleverness,

and thou hast gained a name; whereas, if thou hadst dwelt upon the confines of the earth, no tongue had mentioned thee. Give me no gold within my halls; nor skill to sing a fairer strain than ever Orpheus sang, unless therewith my fame be spread abroad!

So much I say to thee about my own toils, for ’twas thou didst challenge me to this retort. As for the taunts thou urgest against my marriage with the princess, I will prove to thee, first, that I am prudent herein, next chastened in my love, and last a powerful friend

to thee and to thy sons; only hold thy peace. Since I have here withdrawn from Iolcos with many a hopeless trouble at my back, what happier device could I, an exile, frame than marriage with the daughter of the king?

’Tis not because I loathe thee for my wife—the thought that rankles in thy heart; ’tis not because I am smitten with desire fot a new bride, nor yet that I am eager to vie with others in begetting many children, for those we have are quite enough, and I do not complain. Nay, ’tis that we—and this is most important—

may dwell in comfort, instead of suffering want (for well I know that every whilom friend avoids the poor), and that I might rear my sons as doth befit my house; further, that I might be the father of brothers for the children thou hast born, and raise these to the same high rank, uniting the family in one,—

to my lasting bliss. Thou, indeed, hast no need of more children, but me it profits to help my present family by that which is to be. Have I miscarried here? Not even thou wouldest say so unless a rival’s charms rankled in thy bosom. No, but you women have such strange ideas,

that you think all is well so long as your married life runs smooth; but if some mischance occur to ruffle your love, all that was good and lovely erst you reckon as your foes. Yea, men should have begotten children from some other source, no female race existing;

thus would no evil ever have fallen on mankind.

This speech, O Jason, hast thou with specious art arranged; but yet I think—albeit in saying so I betray indiscretion—that thou hast sinned in casting over thy wife.

No doubt I differ from the mass of men on many points;

for, to my mind, whoso hath skill to fence with words in an unjust cause, incurs the heaviest penalty; for such an one, confident that he can cast a decent veil of words o’er his injustice, dares to practise it; and yet he is not so very clever after all. So do not thou put forth thy specious pleas

and clever words to me now, for one word of mine will lay thee low. Hadst thou not had a villain’s heart, thou shouldst have gained my consent, then made this match, instead of hiding it from those who loved thee.

Thou wouldest have lent me ready aid, no doubt, in this proposal, if I had told thee of my marriage, seeing that not even now

canst thou restrain thy soul’s hot fury.

This was not what restrained thee; but thine eye was turned towards old age, and a foreign wife began to appear discreditable to thee.

Be well assured of this: ’twas not for the woman’s sake I wedded the king’s daughter, my present wife;

but, as I have already told thee, I wished to insure thy safety and to be the father of royal sons bound by blood to my own children—a bulwark to our house.

May that prosperity, whose end is woe, ne’er be mine, nor such wealth as would ever sting my heart!