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Medea
In other things a woman may be timid - in watching battles or seeing steel, but when she's hurt in love, her marriage violated, there's no heart more desperate for blood than hers.
She was suffering from a double agony - around her head the golden diadem shot out amazing molten streams of fire burning everything, and the fine woven robe, your children's gift, consumed the poor girl's flesh.
I was wrong to leave my father's house, won over by the words of that Greek man, who now, with the gods' help, will pay the price.
Don't play the coward. Don't remember now how much you love them, how you gave them life. For this short day forget they are your children— and mourn them later. Although you kill them, still you loved them. As a woman, I'm so sad.
