A master; for not to take one is even worse.

And now the question is serious whether we take

A good or bad one; for there is no easy escape

For a woman, nor can she say no to her marriage.

She arrives among new modes of behavior and manners,

And needs prophetic power, unless she has learned at home,

How best to manage him who shares the bed with her.

And if we work out all this well and carefully, And the husband lives with us and lightly bears his yoke,

Then life is enviable. If not, I’d rather die.

A man, when he’s tired of the company in his home,

Goes out of the house and puts an end to his boredom

And turns to a friend or companion of his own age.

But we are forced to keep our eyes on one alone.

What they say of us is that we have a peaceful time

Living at home, while they do the fighting in war.

How wrong they are! I would very much rather stand

Three times in the front of battle than bear one child.

Yet what applies to me does not apply to you.

You have a country. Your family home is here.

You enjoy life and the company of your friends.

But I am deserted, a refugee, thought nothing of

By my husband—something he won in a foreign land.

I have no mother or brother, nor any relation

With whom I can take refuge in this sea of woe.

This much then is the service I would beg from you:

If I can find the means or devise any scheme

To pay my husband back for what he has done to me—

Him and his father-in-law and the girl who married him—

Just to keep silent. For in other ways a woman

Is full of fear, defenseless, dreads the sight of cold

Steel; but, when once she is wronged in the matter of love,

No other soul can hold so many thoughts of blood.

CHORUS

This I will promise. You are in the right, Medea,

In paying your husband back. I am not surprised at you

For being sad.

But look! I see our King Creon

Approaching. He will tell us of some new plan.

(Enter, from the right, Creon, with attendants.)

CREON

YOU, with that angry look, so set against your husband,

Medea, I order you to leave my territories

An exile, and take along with you your two children,

And not to waste time doing it. It is my decree,

And I will see it done. I will not return home

Until you are cast from the boundaries of my land.

MEDEA

Oh, this is the end for me. I am utterly lost.

Now I am in the full force of the storm of hate

And have no harbor from ruin to reach easily.

Yet still, in spite of it all, I’ll ask the question:

What is your reason, Creon, for banishing me?