Medea. Loathe on. . . . But, Oh, thy voice. It hurts me sore. Jason. Aye, and thine me. Wouldst hear me then no more? - Euripides

Necio es el mortal que, creyéndose siempre feliz, se abandona al placer: la fortuna, cual furiosa delirante, salta aquí y allá, y a ninguno concede perpetua dicha

What they say of us is that we have a peaceful time
Living at home, while they do the fighting in war.
How wrong they are! I would very much rather stand
Three times in the front of battle than bear one child.

O black night, you who nurse he golden stars! In you I go, bearing this jar poised on my head, to fetch water from springs of rivers; not that any need pushes me to this point, but so I may show the gods the insolence of Aegisthus, and pour out my griefs under huge heaven to my father's spirit. My mother, Tyndareos' daughter, lost in wickedness, to show Aegisthus other sons, she treats me and O restes both s bastards of her house.