TUT. Thy sons, my mistress, are reprieved from banishment, and the royal
bride received thy presents in her hands with pleasure, and hence is peace
to thy children.
MED. Ah!
TUT. Why dost thou stand in confusion, when thou art fortunate?
MED. Alas! alas!
TUT. This behavior is not consonant with the message I have brought thee.
MED. Alas! again.
TUT. Have I reported any ill fortune unknowingly, and have I failed in my
hope of being the messenger of good?
MED. Thou hast said what thou hast said, I blame not thee.
TUT. Why then dost thou bend down thine eye, and shed tears?
MED. Strong necessity compels me, O aged man, for this the Gods and I
deliberating ill have contrived.
TUT. Be of good courage; thou also wilt return home yet through thy
children.
MED. Others first will I send to their home,[29] O wretched me!
TUT. Thou art not the only one who art separated from thy children; it
behooves a mortal to bear calamities with meekness.
MED. I will do so; but go within the house, and prepare for the children
what is needful for the day. O my sons, my sons, you have indeed a city,
and a house, in which having forsaken me miserable, you shall dwell, ever
deprived of a mother. But I am now going an exile into a foreign land,
before I could have delight in you, and see you flourishing, before I could
adorn your marriage, and wife, and nuptial-bed, and hold up the torch.[30]
O unfortunate woman that I am, on account of my wayward temper. In vain
then, my children, have I brought you up, in vain have I toiled, and been
consumed with cares, suffering the strong agonies of child-bearing. Surely
once there was a time when I hapless woman had many hopes in you, that you
would both tend me in my age, and when dead would with your hands decently
compose my limbs, a thing desired by men. But now this pleasing thought
hath indeed perished; for deprived of you I shall pass a life of misery,
and bitter to myself. But you will no longer behold your mother with your
dear eyes, having passed into another state of life. Alas! alas! why do you
look upon me with your eyes, my children? Why do ye smile that last smile?
Alas! alas! what shall I do? for my heart is sinking. Ye females, when I
behold the cheerful look of my children, I have no power. Farewell my
counsels: I will take my children with me from this land. What does it
avail me grieving their father with the ills of these, to acquire twice as
much pain for myself? never will I at least do this. Farewell my counsels.
And yet what do I suffer? do I wish to incur ridicule, having left my foes
unpunished? This must be dared. But the bringing forward words of
tenderness in my mind arises also from my cowardice. Go, my children, into
the house; and he for whom it is not lawful to be present at my sacrifice,
let him take care himself to keep away.[31] But I will not stain my hand.
Alas! alas! do not thou then, my soul, do not thou at least perpetrate
this. Let them escape, thou wretch, spare thy sons. There shall they live
with us and delight thee. No, I swear by the infernal deities who dwell
with Pluto, never shall this be, that I will give up my children to be
insulted by my enemies. [At all events they must die, and since they must,
I who brought them into the world will perpetrate the deed.] This is fully
determined by fate, and shall not pass away. And now the chaplet is on her
head, and the bride is perishing in the robes; of this I am well assured.
But, since I am now going a most dismal path, and these will I send by one
still more dismal, I desire to address my children: give, my sons, give thy
right hand for thy mother to kiss. O most dear hand, and those lips dearest
to me, and that form and noble countenance of my children, be ye blessed,
but there;[32] for every thing here your father hath taken away. O the
sweet embrace, and that soft skin, and that most fragrant breath of my
children. Go, go; no longer am I able to look upon you, but am overcome by
my ills. I know indeed the ills that I am about to dare, but my rage is
master of my counsels,[33] which is indeed the cause of the greatest
calamities to men.
CHOR. Already have I often gone through more refined reasonings, and have
come to greater arguments than suits the female mind to investigate; for we
also have a muse, which dwelleth with us, for the sake of teaching wisdom;
but not with all, for haply thou wilt find but a small number of the race
of women out of many not ungifted with the muse.[34]
And I say that those men who are entirely free from wedlock, and have not
begotten children, surpass in happiness those who have families; those
indeed who are childless, through inexperience whether children are born a
joy or anguish to men, not having them themselves, are exempt from much
misery. But those who have a sweet blooming offspring of children in their
house, I behold worn with care the whole time; first of all how they shall
bring them up honorably, and how they shall leave means of sustenance for
their children. And still after this, whether they are toiling for bad or
good sons, this is still in darkness. But one ill to mortals, the last of
all, I now will mention. For suppose they have both found sufficient store,
and the bodies of their children have arrived at manhood, and that they are
good; but if this fortune shall happen to them, death, bearing away their
sons, vanishes with them to the shades of darkness. How then does it profit
that the Gods heap on mortals yet this grief in addition to others, the
most bitter of all, for the sake of children?