To the house of Hades because of marrying Jason.

MEDEA

Women, my task is fixed: as quickly as I may

To kill my children, and start away from this land,

And not, by wasting time, to suffer my children

To be slain by another hand less kindly to them.

Force every way will have it they must die, and since

This must be so, then I, their mother, shall kill them.

Oh, arm yourself in steel, my heart! Do not hang back

From doing this fearful and necessary wrong.

Oh, come, my hand, poor wretched hand, and take the sword,

Take it, step forward to this bitter starting point,

And do not be a coward, do not think of them,

How sweet they are, and how you are their mother.

Just for

This one short day be forgetful of your children,

Afterward weep; for even though you will kill them,

They were very dear—Oh, I am an unhappy woman!

(With a cry she rushes into the house.)

CHORUS

O Earth, and the far shining

Ray of the Sun, look down, look down upon

This poor lost woman, look, before she raises

The hand of murder against her flesh and blood.

Yours was the golden birth from which

She sprang, and now I fear divine

Blood may be shed by men.

O heavenly light, hold back her hand,

Check her, and drive from out the house

The bloody Fury raised by fiends of Hell.

Vain waste, your care of children;

Was it in vain you bore the babes you loved,

After you passed the inhospitable strait

Between the dark blue rocks, Symplegades?

O wretched one, how has it come,

This heavy anger on your heart,

This cruel bloody mind?

For God from mortals asks a stern

Price for the stain of kindred blood

In like disaster falling on their homes.

(A cry from one of the children is heard.)

CHORUS

Do you hear the cry, do you hear the children’s cry?

O you hard heart, O woman fated for evil!

ONE OF THE CHILDREN (from within)

What can I do and how escape my mother’s hands?

ANOTHER CHILD (from within)

O my dear brother, I cannot tell. We are lost.

CHORUS

Shall I enter the house? Oh, surely I should

Defend the children from murder.

A CHILD (from within)

O help us, in God’s name, for now we need your help.

Now, now we are close to it. We are trapped by the sword.

CHORUS

O your heart must have been made of rock or steel,

You who can kill

With your own hand the fruit of your own womb.

Of one alone I have heard, one woman alone

Of those of old who laid her hands on her children,

Ino, sent mad by heaven when the wife of Zeus

Drove her out from her home and made her wander;

And because of the wicked shedding of blood

Of her own children she threw

Herself, poor wretch, into the sea and stepped away