THE BOOK WAS DRENCHED - OUDL Home

ah! do not, my heart, O do not do this deed! Let the children go, unhappy
one, spare the babes! For if they live, they will cheer thee in our exile
there. Nay, by the fiends of hell's abyss, never, never will I hand my children
over to their foes to mock and flout. Die they must in any case, and
since 'tis so, why I, the mother who bore them, will give the fatal blow. In
any case their doom is fixed and there is no escape. Already the crown is
on her head, the robe is round her, and she is dying, the royal bride; that
do I know full well. But now since I have a piteous path to tread, and yet
more piteous still the path I send my children on, fain would I say farewell
to them. (The children come out at her call. She takes them in her
arms.) O my babes, my babes, let your mother kiss your hands. Ah! hands
I love so well, O lips most dear to me! O noble form and features of my
children, I wish ye joy, but in that other land, for here your father robs
you of your home. O the sweet embrace, the soft young cheek, the fragrant
breath! my children! Go, leave me; I cannot bear to longer look
upon ye; my sorrow wins the day. At last I understand the awful deed I
am to do; but passion, that cause of direst woes to mortal man, hath
triumphed o'er my sober thoughts.
(She goes into the house with the children.)
CHORUS {chanting)
Oft ere now have I pursued subtler themes and have faced graver
issues than woman's sex should seek to probe; but then e'en we
aspire to culture, which dwells with us to teach us wisdom; I say not
all; for small is the class amongst women—(one maybe shalt thou
find 'mid many)—that is not incapable of wisdom. And amongst
mortals I do assert that they who are wholly without experience and
have never had children far surpass in happiness those who are parents.
The childless, because they have never proved whether children
grow up to be a blessing or curse to men are removed from all share
in many troubles; whilst those who have a sweet race of children
growing up in their houses do wear away, as I perceive, their whole
life through; first with the thought how they may train them up in
virtue, next how they shall leave their sons the means to live; and
after all this 'tis far from clear whether on good or bad children they
bestow their toil. But one last crowning woe for every mortal man I
now will name; suppose that they have found sufficient means to
live, and seen their children grow to man's estate and walk in virtue's
path, still if fortune so befall, comes Death and bears the children's
bodies off to Hades. Can it be any profit to the gods to heap
upon us mortal men beside our other woes this further grief for children
lost, a grief surpassing all?
(MEDEA comes out of the house.)