Greek Monologue

MEDEA:

First, as your fellow sailors in Argo know,

I saved your life,
When you were sent to yoke the fire dragons
And sow the seed that bore fighting men.
And that snake, the snake that never slept,
That sinuous sentry coiled around the fleece,
Who killed it? I did. Saved you again.
Having betrayed my father and family,
I left all I had to go with you
To Iolchus. Was that self-interest,
Or was it passion, my passion for you?
Then I killed Pelias, made his children kill him,
And devastated that whole family for you.
When I’ve done that and that and that for you,
You reject me and get another wife!
And we have children. If we’d had no children,
Your itch for another woman might be excused.
And the marriage vows you swore, —do you understand you’ve broken them?
You’ve broken them? Or did you think
The gods you swore by then have disappeared?
Or that the rules we live by have changed?
To think of my right hand here, and the times you clung to it;
And these knees of mine, your arms around them.
You’ve played on my heart, and cheated my hopes.
I feel I’ve been made foul by your touch.
But let me not speak to you as to a friend—
You’re not my friend, but that’s on your conscience.
Where should I go? To my father’s house?
Him I betrayed and abandoned for you.
To the daughters of Pelias? They’d be glad
To have me back, their father’s murderess.
It’s like this, you see. Those I should love
Have made themselves accursed, while others
Who’d normally be my friends I’ve alienated
For your sake. I do congratulate you,
On being a wonderful husband to me,—
You’ve deprived me of every friend I had,
And got me and our children deported.
I hope your new bride enjoys the thought;
These children wandering homeless, vagrant beggars.
And what of me, who saved your life so often?
O god, you made a touchstone for gold,
And anyone can tell the counterfeit.
But men, why did you make no sign
By which debased men could be distinguished?