Suffice these born to me: no fault in them:—
But that we might with honour live—grave import,—
And be not straitened,—for I know full well 560
How all friends from the poor man stand aloof,—
And I might nurture as beseems mine house
Our sons, and to these born of thee beget
Brethren, and, knitting in one family all,
Live happy days. Thou, what wouldst thou of children? 565
But me it profits, through sons to be born
To help the living. Have I planned so ill?
Not thou wouldst say it, but the lost couch galls thee.
But ye—ye women—so unreasoning are
That, wedlock-rights unmarred, ye count all well; 570
But to the couch if aught untoward hap,
With the best, fairest lot are ye at feud
Most bitter. Would that mortals otherwise
Could get them babes, that womankind were not,
And so no curse had lighted upon men. 575
Chorus.
Words, Jason, words, tricked out full cunningly:
Yet to me—though I speak not to thy mind—
Unjust thou seem'st, betraying thus thy wife.
Medea.
Of many things I think not as think many.
For in my sight the villain subtle-tongued 580
Getteth himself for gain exceeding loss,
Who, confident his tongue can gloze the wrong,
Becomes a bold knave:—no great wisdom this.
So be not thou, as touching me, fair-seeming
And crafty-tongued: one word shall overthrow thee: 585
