LP0091 -XVII ARGONAUTS- Creon (Part 2) of Euripides Medea

Legendary Passages #0091 -XVII ARGONAUTS-
Creon (Part 2), from Euripides' Medea.

Previously, Jason left Medea for the daughter of Creon.

In this passage, Medea is confronted by Creon who banishes her family from Corinth. She talks Creon into giving her one more day, and plots to kill him, his daughter, and Jason too.

http://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/medea.htm

Creon (Part 2),
a Legendary Passage,
from Euripides' Medea,
trans. by E. P. Coleridge.

(As the CHORUS finishes its song, MEDEA enters from the house.)

MEDEA From the house I have come forth, Corinthian ladies, for fear
lest you be blaming me; for well I know that amongst men many by showing
pride have gotten them an ill name and a reputation for indifference,
both those who shun men's gaze and those who move amid the stranger
crowd, and likewise they who choose a quiet walk in life. For there
is no just discernment in the eyes of men, for they, or ever they
have surely learnt their neighbour's heart, loathe him at first sight,
though never wronged by him; and so a stranger most of all should
adopt a city's views; nor do I commend that citizen, who, in the stubbornness
of his heart, from churlishness resents the city's will.

But on me hath fallen this unforeseen disaster, and sapped my life;
ruined I am, and long to resign the boon of existence, kind friends,
and die. For he who was all the world to me, as well thou knowest,
hath turned out the worst of men, my own husband. Of all things that
have life and sense we women are the most hapless creatures; first
must we buy a husband at a great price, and o'er ourselves a tyrant
set which is an evil worse than the first; and herein lies the most
important issue, whether our choice be good or bad. For divorce is
not honourable to women, nor can we disown our lords. Next must the
wife, coming as she does to ways and customs new, since she hath not
learnt the lesson in her home, have a diviner's eye to see how best
to treat the partner of her life. If haply we perform these tasks
with thoroughness and tact, and the husband live with us, without
resenting the yoke, our life is a happy one; if not, 'twere best to
die. But when a man is vexed with what he finds indoors, he goeth
forth and rids his soul of its disgust, betaking him to some friend
or comrade of like age; whilst we must needs regard his single self.

And yet they say we live secure at home, while they are at the wars,
with their sorry reasoning, for I would gladly take my stand in battle
array three times o'er, than once give birth. But enough! this language
suits not thee as it does me; thou hast a city here, a father's house,
some joy in life, and friends to share thy thoughts, but I am destitute,
without a city, and therefore scorned by my husband, a captive I from
a foreign shore, with no mother, brother, or kinsman in whom to find
a new haven of refuge from this calamity. Wherefore this one boon
and only this I wish to win from thee,-thy silence, if haply I can
some way or means devise to avenge me on my husband for this cruel
treatment, and on the man who gave to him his daughter, and on her
who is his wife. For though woman be timorous enough in all else,
and as regards courage, a coward at the mere sight of steel, yet in
the moment she finds her honour wronged, no heart is filled with deadlier
thoughts than hers.

LEADER OF THE CHORUS This will I do; for thou wilt be taking a just
vengeance on thy husband, Medea. That thou shouldst mourn thy lot
surprises me not. But lo! I see Creon, king of this land coming hither,
to announce some new resolve. (CREON enters, with his retinue.)

CREON Hark thee, Medea, I bid thee take those sullen looks and angry
thoughts against thy husband forth from this land in exile, and with
thee take both thy children and that without delay, for I am judge
in this sentence, and I will not return unto my house till I banish
thee beyond the borders of the land.

MEDEA Ah, me! now is utter destruction come upon me, unhappy that
I am! For my enemies are bearing down on me full sail, nor have I
any landing-place to come at in my trouble. Yet for all my wretched
plight I will ask thee, Creon, wherefore dost thou drive me from the
land?

CREON I fear thee,-no longer need I veil my dread 'neath words,-lest
thou devise against my child some cureless ill. Many things contribute
to this fear of mine; thou art a witch by nature, expert in countless
sorceries, and thou art chafing for the loss of thy husband's affection.
I hear, too, so they tell me, that thou dost threaten the father of
the bride, her husband, and herself with some mischief; wherefore
I will take precautions ere our troubles come. For 'tis better for
me to incur thy hatred now, lady, than to soften my heart and bitterly
repent it hereafter.

MEDEA Alas! this is not now the first time, but oft before, O Creon,
hath my reputation injured me and caused sore mischief. Wherefore
whoso is wise in his generation ought never to have his children taught
to be too clever; for besides the reputation they get for idleness,
they purchase bitter odium from the citizens. For if thou shouldst
import new learning amongst dullards, thou wilt be thought a useless
trifler, void of knowledge; while if thy fame in the city o'ertops
that of the pretenders to cunning knowledge, thou wilt win their dislike.
I too myself share in this ill-luck. Some think me clever and hate
me, others say I am too reserved, and some the very reverse; others
find me hard to please and not so very clever after all. Be that as
it may, thou dost fear me lest I bring on thee something to mar thy
harmony. Fear me not, Creon, my position scarce is such that should
seek to quarrel with princes. Why should I, for how hast thou injured
me? Thou hast betrothed thy daughter where thy fancy prompted thee.
No, 'tis my husband I hate, though I doubt not thou hast acted wisely
herein. And now I grudge not thy prosperity; betroth thy child, good
luck to thee, but let me abide in this land, for though I have been
wronged I will be still and yield to my superiors.

CREON Thy words are soft to hear, but much I dread lest thou art
devising some mischief in thy heart, and less than ever do I trust
thee now; for cunning woman, and man likewise, is easier to guard
against when quick-tempered than when taciturn. Nay, begone at once!
speak me no speeches, for this is decreed, nor hast thou any art whereby
thou shalt abide amongst us, since thou hatest me.

MEDEA O, say not so! by thy knees and by thy daughter newlywed, I
do implore!

CREON Thou wastest words; thou wilt never persuade me.

MEDEA What, wilt thou banish me, and to my prayers no pity yield?

CREON I will, for I love not thee above my own family.

MEDEA O my country! what fond memories I have of thee in this hour!

CREON Yea, for I myself love my city best of all things save my children.

MEDEA Ah me! ah me! to mortal man how dread a scourge is love!

CREON That, I deem, is according to the turn our fortunes take.

MEDEA O Zeus! let not the author of these my troubles escape thee.

CREON Begone, thou silly woman, and free me from my toil.

MEDEA The toil is mine, no lack of it.

CREON Soon wilt thou be thrust out forcibly by the hand of servants.

MEDEA Not that, not that, I do entreat thee, Creon.

CREON Thou wilt cause disturbance yet, it seems.

MEDEA I will begone; I ask thee not this boon to grant.

CREON Why then this violence? why dost thou not depart?

MEDEA Suffer me to abide this single day and devise some plan for
the manner of my exile, and means of living for my children, since
their father cares not to provide his babes therewith. Then pity them;
thou too hast children of thine own; thou needs must have a kindly
heart. For my own lot I care naught, though I an exile am, but for
those babes I weep, that they should learn what sorrow means.

CREON Mine is a nature anything but harsh; full oft by showing pity
have suffered shipwreck; and now albeit I clearly see my error, yet
shalt thou gain this request, lady; but I do forewarn thee, if tomorrow's
rising sun shall find thee and thy children within the borders of
this land, thou diest; my word is spoken and it will not lie. So now,
if abide thou must, stay this one day only, for in it thou canst not
do any of the fearful deeds I dread. (CREON and his retinue go out.)

CHORUS (chanting) Ah! poor lady, woe is thee! Alas, for thy sorrows!
Whither wilt thou turn? What protection, what home or country to save
thee from thy troubles wilt thou find? O Medea, in what a hopeless
sea of misery heaven hath plunged thee!

MEDEA On all sides sorrow pens me in. Who shall gainsay this? But
all is not yet lost! think not so. Still are there troubles in store
for the new bride, and for her bridegroom no light toil. Dost think
I would ever have fawned on yonder man, unless to gain some end or
form some scheme? Nay, would not so much as have spoken to him or
touched him with my hand. But he has in folly so far stepped in that,
though he might have checked my plot by banishing me from the land,
he hath allowed me to abide this day, in which I will lay low in death
three of my enemies-a father and his daughter and my husband too.
Now, though I have many ways to compass their death, I am not sure,
friends, which I am to try first. Shall I set fire to the bridal mansion,
or plunge the whetted sword through their hearts, softly stealing
into the chamber where their couch is spread? One thing stands in
my way. If I am caught making my way into the chamber, intent on my
design, I shall be put to death and cause my foes to mock, 'Twere
best to take the shortest way-the way we women are most skilled in-by
poison to destroy them. Well, suppose them dead; what city will receive
me? What friendly host will give me a shelter in his land, a home
secure, and save my soul alive? None. So I will wait yet a little
while in case some tower of defence rise up for me; then will I proceed
to this bloody deed in crafty silence; but if some unexpected mischance
drive me forth, I will with mine own hand seize the sword, e'en though
I die for it, and slay them, and go forth on my bold path of daring.
By that dread queen whom I revere before all others and have chosen
to share my task, by Hecate who dwells within my inmost chamber, not
one of them shall wound my heart and rue it not. Bitter and sad will
I make their marriage for them; bitter shall be the wooing of it,
bitter my exile from the land. Up, then, Medea, spare not the secrets
of thy art in plotting and devising; on to the danger. Now comes a
struggle needing courage. Dost see what thou art suffering? 'Tis not
for thee to be a laughing-stock to the race of Sisyphus by reason
of this wedding of Jason, sprung, as thou art, from noble sire, and
of the Sun-god's race. Thou hast cunning; and, more than this, we
women, though by nature little apt for virtuous deeds, are most expert
to fashion any mischief.