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It seems that fate is this day fastening calamity on Jason, and with justice. [O poor woman, daughter of Creon, how we pity your misfortune: because of your marriage to Jason [1235] you have departed to the halls of Hades.]

My friends, my resolve is fixed on the deed, to kill my children with all speed and to flee from this land: I must not, by lingering, deliver my children for murder to a less kindly hand. [1240] They must die at all events, and since they must, I who gave them birth shall kill them. Come, put on your armor, my heart. Why do I put off doing the terrible deed that must be done? Come, wretched hand, take the sword, [1245] take it and go to your life's miserable goal. Do not weaken, do not remember that you love the children, that you gave them life. Instead, for this brief day forget them—and mourn hereafter: for even if you kill them, [1250] they were dear to you. Oh, what an unhappy woman I am!Exit Medea into the house.

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    • William Watson Goodwin, Syntax of the Moods and Tenses of the Greek Verb, Chapter IV
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