CREON

I am afraid of you—why should I dissemble it?—

Afraid that you may injure my daughter mortally.

Many things accumulate to support my feeling.

You are a clever woman, versed in evil arts,

And are angry at having lost your husband’s love.

I hear that you are threatening, so they tell me,

To do something against my daughter and Jason

And me, too. I shall take my precautions first.

I tell you, I prefer to earn your hatred now

Than to be soft-hearted and afterward regret it.

MEDEA

This is not the first time, Creon. Often previously

Through being considered clever I have suffered much.

A person of sense ought never to have his children

Brought up to be more clever than the average.

For, apart from cleverness bringing them no profit,

It will make them objects of envy and ill-will.

If you put new ideas before the eyes of fools

They’ll think you foolish and worthless into the bargain;

And if you are thought superior to those who have

Some reputation for learning, you will become hated.

I have some knowledge myself of how this happens;

For being clever, I find that some will envy me,

Others object to me. Yet all my cleverness

Is not so much.

Well, then, are you frightened, Creon,

That I should harm you? There is no need. It is not

My way to transgress the authority of a king.

How have you injured me? You gave your daughter away

To the man you wanted. Oh, certainly I hate

My husband, but you, I think, have acted wisely;

Nor do I grudge it you that your affairs go well.

May the marriage be a lucky one! Only let me

Live in this land. For even though I have been wronged,

I will not raise my voice, but submit to my betters.

CREON

What you say sounds gentle enough. Still in my heart

I greatly dread that you are plotting some evil,

And therefore I trust you even less than before.

A sharp-tempered woman, or, for that matter, a man,

Is easier to deal with than the clever type

Who holds her tongue. No. You must go. No need for more

Speeches. The thing is fixed. By no manner of means

Shall you, an enemy of mine, stay in my country.

MEDEA

I beg you. By your knees, by your new-wedded girl.

CREON

Your words are wasted. You will never persuade me.

MEDEA

Will you drive me out, and give no heed to my prayers?

CREON

I will, for I love my family more than you.

MEDEA

O my country! How bitterly now I remember you!

CREON

I love my country too—next after my children.

MEDEA

Oh what an evil to men is passionate love!

CREON

That would depend on the luck that goes along with it.

MEDEA

O God, do not forget who is the cause of this!

CREON

GO. It is no use. Spare me the pain of forcing you.

MEDEA

I’m spared no pain. I lack no pain to be spared me.