ALCESTIS
Translated by Rachel Kitzinger
The translation follows the text in Euripides: “Alcestis,” edited by L.P.E. Parker (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007). I have also consulted her commentary.
CAST OF CHARACTERS (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE)
APOLLO
DEATH
CHORUS of men of Pherae who are friends of King Admetus
SLAVE WOMAN serving Alcestis
ADMETUS, king of Pherae; son of Pheres
ALCESTIS, Admetus’ wife
CHILDREN of Admetus and Alcestis, son and (nonspeaking) daughter
HERACLES, son of Zeus and the mortal woman Alcmene
PHERES, father of Admetus
ATTENDANT, slave assigned to look after Heracles
Setting: The play takes place in front of the royal house of Admetus and Alcestis in Pherae, in Thessaly. The exit from the stage to the left leads to the north edges of Pherae and beyond to Thrace. This direction is also associated in the play with the trip to the Underworld. The right exit leads to the rest of the town and places to the south.
(Apollo enters from the skēnē, Admetus’ house. He carries a bow and arrows.)
APOLLO: House of Admetus! Here I patiently agreed
to sit at table with hired hands, though I’m
a god! Zeus was to blame: he killed my son
Asclepius by striking him with lightning.*1
I was enraged and killed the Cyclopes,
who forge my father’s bolts of fire. So he
forced me to serve a mortal, in payment
for their death. I came here and worked
as herdsman for my host. I’ve protected his house
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until now: since I, a god, found that Admetus,
son of Pheres, was a pious man, I saved him
from death. I tricked the Fates,*2 to let him
escape impending doom, if he could find
someone to take his place among the dead.
He went to all those he held dear and put them
to the test—his aging father, the mother who bore him.
He found that none but his wife was willing
to die for him, to see the light no more.
And now in this house he holds her up,
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supports her as she breathes her last.
This is the day allotted for her death.*3
She will leave her life, but I leave
this dear house, to avoid the pollution*4
I’d meet here. Already I see Death nearby.
He who consecrates the dead comes to lead her
down to the house of Hades. He’s timed his coming
with care, to match the day she’s due to die.
(Death enters from the left, the direction of the Underworld, carrying a sword; he is chanting in anapests.)*5
DEATH: (chanting) a, a!
Why are you here at the door, Phoebus? *6
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What are you doing hanging about?
Are you plotting another crime?
Usurping the rights of the gods below?
Wasn’t it enough that you put a stop
to Admetus’ death by tripping up the Fates
with your deceitful trick? Are you on guard again,
with bow in hand, to protect Pelias’ child?*7
She agreed to die in place of her husband.
APOLLO: Don’t worry. I’m fair, my words trustworthy.
DEATH: Why the bow, then, if your intent is just?
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APOLLO: It’s my habit. I always carry it.
DEATH: It’s your “habit” to help this house unjustly!
APOLLO: I feel sorry for the misfortune of a friend.
DEATH: And so you’ll keep a second body from me?
APOLLO: But I didn’t force the first away from you.
(Death points to the house of Admetus.)
DEATH: Why then is he up here and not down there?
APOLLO: He gave his wife instead, the one you’ve come for.
DEATH: And I will take her down below the earth.
APOLLO: Go on, take her. I doubt I could persuade you—
DEATH: (sarcastically)—to kill the one I must? I have my orders.
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APOLLO: Not that, no. Can I ask you to delay her death?
DEATH: I see now what you mean, what you’re after.
APOLLO: Is it possible for Alcestis to reach old age?
DEATH: No, it’s not. Like you, I enjoy my rights.
APOLLO: You wouldn’t get more than one life, then or now.
DEATH: When the young die my prestige grows.
APOLLO: But she’ll be buried with riches if she dies in old age.
DEATH: Phoebus, you lay down a law that privileges the wealthy.
APOLLO: What?! Are you actually able to think?
DEATH: Those with means could buy a later death.
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APOLLO: You’re not inclined, then, to do me this favor?
DEATH: No, I’m not. You know my ways.
APOLLO: I do: hateful to mortals and hated by gods.
DEATH: You can’t have everything you’re not entitled to.
APOLLO: You’ll give in, though, despite your savagery.
A man will come to the house of Pheres,
sent by Eurystheus to stormy Thrace
to bring back horses and a chariot.*8
This man will be a guest in Admetus’ house,
and he will force this woman from you.
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I’ll give you no thanks, only hatred,
when you do then what I ask for now.
DEATH: Say all you want, it’ll get you nothing.
The woman will go now to the house of Hades.
I begin the rites as I approach her with my sword.
The person whose hair this sword sanctifies*9
becomes an offering to the gods of the dead.
(Death exits into the house; Apollo is raised up and off the stage by the mēchanē. The Chorus of male citizens of Pherae enter from the right, the direction of the town.)
CHORUS: (chanting; the first two lines are chanted by one section of the Chorus, another section answers)*10—Why this quiet outside the house?
Why has the house of Admetus fallen silent?
—There’s no friend about
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to say if we should mourn
the queen’s death or if she’s still alive.
Does Alcestis, daughter of Pelias, still see
the light of day? To us and to all
she seems the best of wives
to her husband.
strophe
CHORUS: (singing)*11 Does anyone hear moaning, or the beating
of breasts? Is there groaning in the house
that tells us it’s over?
Not one slave
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attends the doors.
Oh, Paian,*12 appear, we pray,
in this wave of disaster.
CHORUS: (chanting; voices are again divided into two sections that respond to each other)—They wouldn’t be silent if she were dead.
—At least it’s certain the body hasn’t left the house yet.*13
—How do you know? I’m not so sure. What gives you hope?
—How could Admetus have performed the burial
of his good wife all on his own?*14
antistrophe
CHORUS: I see before the doors
no bowl of cleansing water, the custom
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before the doors of the dead.
No lock of hair hangs
on the door, a sign we expect
of grief for the dead; no sound
of the beating of women’s hands.
CHORUS: (chanting) —And yet this is the very day—
—What are you saying?
—when she must go beneath the earth.
—You touch me, touch my heart.
�
��When trouble plagues a noble house,
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anyone who’s decent through and through
must feel grief.
strophe
CHORUS: (singing) No voyage you could make—
not to Lycia
nor the dry sands where Ammon
has his seat*15—
would save the life
of this poor woman.
Relentlessly her death draws near.
I know no longer which god,
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which altar set for sacrifice I should approach.
antistrophe
Only if Phoebus’ son*16
still saw the light of day
could she have come back,
have left behind the gates of Hades,
the dark places where Hades sits.
He made the dead rise up,
until a bolt of thunder-fire
hurled by Zeus struck him.
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So now what hope of life can I expect?
CHORUS: (chanting) Already every rite’s been tried
by the royal pair and for the royal pair;
the altars of every god
run with the blood of sacrifice.
There is no cure for this disaster.
(A slave woman enters from the house.)
CHORUS: But look, here comes a slave from the house.
Her face is wet with tears. What news will I hear?
(to the slave) If something has happened to your master,
I understand your grief, but I’d like to know
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if the lady is still alive, or has she died?
SLAVE WOMAN: You could say of her she’s living and she’s dead.
CHORUS: How could one person both die and live?
SLAVE WOMAN: She’s collapsed and breathes her last breath.
CHORUS: Poor Admetus, to be who you are and lose such a wife!
SLAVE WOMAN: He doesn’t know what he’s losing until she’s lost.
CHORUS: There’s no more hope she can be saved?
SLAVE WOMAN: The fated day moves on; it won’t be stopped.
CHORUS: So someone is making the preparations due her?
SLAVE: All is ready for him to adorn her dead body.
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CHORUS: Let her know she’s glorious in her death,
the best wife of all there are under the sun.
SLAVE WOMAN: Who could deny she’s the best? How could they?
What name exists for a woman who surpasses her?
How could any woman show more clearly
she honors her husband? She’s agreed to die for him!
This much the whole city knows.
But what she did inside the house will amaze you.
When she knew the appointed day had come
she washed her pale body in river-water
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and took clothing and jewelry from a cedar chest.
She put them on and made herself beautiful.*17
And then she prayed at the altar of Hestia:*18
“Lady, now I go beneath the earth and so
I kneel to you for the last time and ask:
watch over my orphan children.*19 Find my son
a loving wife, my daughter a noble husband.
May they not, like me, their mother,
die an early death. Let them prosper
in their fatherland, live a long and happy life.”
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She went to every altar in Admetus’ house;
she placed on each a garland of myrtle,*20
leaves she’d cut from the tree, and prayed.
She didn’t weep. She didn’t groan. The coming
of disaster made no change in the luster of her skin.
But then, in the bedroom, she fell on the bed
and burst into tears. And then she said:
“Oh, bed, farewell. Here I gave my husband
my virginity, and now I die for him.
I do not hate you: you have ruined me,
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only me. I shrank from failing you
and him, my husband, and so I die. Another
will own you, luckier, perhaps, than me, but not
as wise.” She kisses the bed, and all the covers
are damp with the tears that flow from her eyes.
When she exhausts her wealth of tears,
she stumbles weakly from the bed and starts to go,
but, many times, as she leaves the room, she turns
and hurls herself back again upon the bed.
Her children grasp their mother’s dress
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and weep. She takes them both in her arms and gives,
first one and then the other, a dying kiss.
All the household slaves wept out of pity
for their mistress. She reached out to each
with her right hand. Not one was too base
for her to address and hear an answer in return.
Such is the trouble in Admetus’ house.
If he’d died, he’d be gone. But he lives,
and the pain he has he will never forget.
CHORUS: I’m sure he laments this misfortune,
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to lose, as he must, his noble wife?
SLAVE WOMAN: He holds his dear wife in his arms and weeps.
He begs her not to abandon him; he seeks
what cannot be. Her body’s wasted with illness,
she’s fading and limp, a pitiful weight in his arms.
Still her breath is short and shallow,
and she wants to see the light of the sun
once more—for the last time, she knows.*21
I’ll go now and announce you’re here.
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Not everyone wishes his rulers well
and stands kindly by them in their trouble.
But you are old supporters of my master.
(The slave woman exits into the house. The Chorus sing and dance as they appeal to the gods on Alcestis’ behalf.)*22
strophe
CHORUS: Oh, Zeus, is there a way out?
What release can there be
from the troubles that surround our rulers?
aiai
Is relief near or should I cut a lock of hair
and cloak myself now
in a dark robe of mourning?
It’s all too clear, friends, but nevertheless
let us pray to the gods. Their power
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is very great.
Lord Paian,*23
discover for Admetus some way out of his troubles.
Deliver it, please deliver. You did
before, so be now
a savior from death.
Put a stop to murderous Hades.
antistrophe
papai […]*24
Oh, son of Pheres, what you’ve suffered
with the loss of your wife!
aiai
It calls for the sword
or a noose raised high
or more, even, than that.
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Your dear wife—no, your dearest wife,
you will see die
this day.
But look, look!
She comes from the house, and her husband, too.
Cry out, land of Pheres,
lament this best of wives,
as she wastes away with the sickness
that takes her down to Hades.
(chanting) I’ll never say that marriage brings pleasure
more than pain. I have other proof
and now I see the suffering of the king
who’s lost this woman, this best of wives.
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He’ll live hereafter
a life that’s not a life.
(Alcestis and Admetus, with their son and daughter, enter from the house; Alcestis is carried on a bier; she sings in an exchange with Admetus, who is speaking.)
ALCESTIS: Sun and lig
ht of the day
and sky that swirls
with scudding clouds!
ADMETUS: The sun, yes—it sees the two of us, our suffering,
but we’ve done nothing to the gods to warrant your death.
ALCESTIS: Earth! Rooftops!
Bridal chambers
of my native Iolcus!*25
(As Admetus speaks, slaves raise Alcestis to her feet and hold her up.)
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ADMETUS: Rise up, poor woman. Don’t abandon me.
Beg the ruling gods to show you pity.
ALCESTIS: I see two oars,*26 I see the boat
on the lake. And the ferryman
holds in his hand a pole: Charon
calls me, “Why do you delay?
Hurry, you’re holding me back.” Do you hear?
In his haste he urges me on.
ADMETUS: oimoi! This is a bitter tale you tell,
this voyage. How we suffer, unlucky one!
ALCESTIS: He’s taking me, someone takes me, he takes me—
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don’t you see?—to the house of the dead.
Under dark brows dark eyes
stare: winged Hades!
What will you do? Let me go! Fear fills me:
what road, what journey lies ahead?
ADMETUS: A journey your friends pity, but most of all, I
and the children pity. Together we feel this grief.
ALCESTIS: Let me go, let me go now.
Lay me down, my legs lose their strength.
Hades is here,
dark night is covering
my eyes.
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Children, children,
you have a mother
no more. May you live
and feel joy, my children.
ADMETUS:*27 oimoi! To hear her words
hurts me more than any death.
By the gods, don’t dare abandon me!
For the children’s sake, whom you will orphan,
The Greek Plays Page 54