“Medea: Oh, what misery! … Cursed sons, and a mother for cursing! Death take you all – you and your father …
Nurse: Why make the sons share in their father’s guilt?”
“Chorus: If only Apollo,
Prince of the lyric, had put
in our hearts the invention
Of music and songs for the lyre
Wouldn’t I then have raised
up a feminine paean
To answer the epic of men?”
“Nurse: (Medea) might be a rock or wave or the sea, for all she heeds of sympathy from friends, except sometimes to…moan to herself about her father--whom she loved--and her country and the home she sacrificed.”