Stageplay
CAST:
MEDEA: mid- to late 30s, sorceress and wife of King Aegeus of Athens
CIRCE: early 60s, Medea’s aunt, a banished sorceress
MAID: late 20s to mid-30s, narrator/Circe’s maid
SETTING:
Ancient times, the island of Aiaia.
* * *
AT RISE: In the front garden of Circe’s house on Aiaia, bathed in the soft light of the late afternoon. CIRCE, now an elderly woman, delicately tends to the garden, planting herbs for the season. As she works, she occasionally glances toward the horizon, reacting to some distant sight or sound. Wiping her forehead with her gloves, she takes a moment to catch her breath. Next to her, between two chairs, is an outdoor table with a plate of pomegranates.
Enter MAID.
MAID: (To audience)
A woman wronged, in torment and in strife,
We tell the tragic tale of dear Medea’s life.
From Colchis’s shore to Corinth’s fateful land,
A tortured existence, weaved by Fate’s hand.
Medea, with magic’s aid and courage to seize,
Helped the hero Jason capture the Golden Fleece.
Yet Jason’s love grew cold, and he chose a new bride.
And wed Corinth’s princess, casting Medea aside.
Her despair, a spark, replaced love once cherished.
And in vengeance’s flame, Jason’s bride and king perished.
Their children’s lives, a grievous, painful cost,
For the revenge she sought, their lives were to be lost.
With her children’s bodies, her sun chariot soared on high,
Away from her darkest sin, and into the endless sky.
Until she touched down in Athens’s warm embrace,
King Aegeus, a sanctuary, her only safe space.
He wed her, as vowed, and she sought to bear,
Two years of struggle, with naught for an heir.
With no other refuge, she set her course to sail,
To the banished isle where Circe’s arts prevail.
And so, on Aiaia’s shore, starts our tale.
The MAID goes to aid the heavily pregnant MEDEA as she enters.
MEDEA: Dearest Aunt …
She watches CIRCE, who remains immersed in her work.
MEDEA: … won’t you rise to greet me?
CIRCE: I am an aged woman. It is a task to stand these days. You’ll have to make do with my presence.
MEDEA: Very well, but I come to you with great news.
CIRCE continues her planting. The MAID helps MEDEA sit on one of the chairs.
MEDEA: Dear Aunt, I am pregnant! A son once more, soon to grace our world.
CIRCE and the MAID share a look.
CIRCE: Maid, please, fetch me water.
The MAID nods and exits.
MEDEA: Time goes so quickly, Aunt, and my ship will return soon. Few choose to travel so close to Scylla. (Cheekily) You must be overjoyed to be so close to your old … friend.
CIRCE: Why do you come, girl?
MEDEA: My husband.
CIRCE: There’s a smile on your face. Why do I suspect you are not talking about Jason?
MEDEA: You know me so well. You are correct. Jason and I are no more.
CIRCE: You wear the smile of a trickster.
MEDEA: I’m simply happy. My days continue to be blessed by the light of Helios, and the glow of motherhood. What could possibly be more fulfilling?
CIRCE: And yet you journey to the isle of a banished woman.
MEDEA: You’re still banished, then? Ah. I thought you just wanted to stay in this—lovely—place.
CIRCE glares at her.
MEDEA: I, on the other hand, no longer live as a transient.
CIRCE: Oh? You’ve returned to your father’s home?
MEDEA: I live in Athens now. (Pause) I have no father to return to anymore.
CIRCE: Then I must no longer be your aunt?
MEDEA: The man refuses to see me. I returned to Colchis to show that despite all I had done, I still had Helios’s favor, but he came at me with swords drawn! His own daughter!
CIRCE: Pity.
MEDEA: Dearest Aunt, please, my husband Aegeus is gravely ill.
CIRCE: And you want me to heal him? How noble of you. Ever the dutiful wife.
MEDEA: No. That chapter is done. He has lived a good life.
She touches her stomach.
MEDEA: There is little time left.
CIRCE: How many months are you? Eight? Nine?
MEDEA: Eleven.
CIRCE: Gods … through magic?
MEDEA: There is an herb … it thrives in the decay at the swamp’s edge. It took me a long time to find it. With it, I’ve created a draught that staves off labor.
CIRCE: For how long?
MEDEA: Six weeks before I must take another.
CIRCE: (Tiredly) So why did you come here?
MEDEA: I exhausted my supply a month ago. Usually, I prepare the next one at this time … but … the herb is gone. Destroyed, I believe. I’ve searched the world in my chariot, but there’s nothing.
CIRCE: You mustn’t think that I have such a plant here?
MEDEA: I know you don’t. I didn’t come here for that.
CIRCE: Then speak with purpose, child.
MEDEA: The goddess Ilythia has been cruel to me. Through her divine magic, she bound my womb to prevent the birth of my children.
The MAID arrives with a pitcher of water and a glass, setting them on the table before helping Circe to her seat. MEDEA glares at the MAID as she pours water for only CIRCE, and CIRCE hides an amused smile. She and the MAID share another look, and then the MAID exits. MEDEA looks at her aunt, expecting her to comment on her maid’s behavior.
CIRCE: The sun is unforgiving here.
MEDEA: The winds are no better. That’s why I couldn’t travel on my golden chariot. You remember, the one your father left for me.
CIRCE: How kind of him.
MEDEA: He does treat me so well. Better than any other man. (Pause) It was difficult to find this island.
CIRCE: It is meant to be.
MEDEA: It was easier when I came before.
CIRCE: Maybe Jason’s presence helped your navigation.
MEDEA: Jason has never helped anyone a day in his life.
CIRCE: (Amused) Oh? You sang a different tune the last time you were here.
MEDEA: Aunt, please. I came here to speak about my husband, not Jason. My dear Aegeus has fathered another child. A son. Before I arrived in Athens, he traveled and, while drunk, slept with a maiden princess. After he left, the god Poseidon visited. The boy is both mortal and divine, and will, one day, travel to Athens to claim his birthright.
CIRCE: What birthright does a bastard have?
MEDEA: The bastard son of Poseidon. He will have more support than any child from my foreign womb.
CIRCE: You are Aegeus’s wife, not just some foreign womb.
MEDEA: As long as I can give him a son. That was the agreement.
CIRCE: Oh, of course, an agreement. And you are so sure the babe you carry is male …
MEDEA: It feels the same as the two sons I had before. Do you see the way my stomach hangs? I promised my husband an heir and must stand by my word, or I’ll be sent away again.
CIRCE: You worry about a man on his deathbed.
MEDEA: If not him, then by the people of Athens!
CIRCE: They will cast you away in either case. They do not trust our kind there.
MEDEA: Is that why you stay here?
CIRCE: Very few things in my life were my choice. What do you want from me, child?
MEDEA: A cleansing ritual. Like the one you performed when I arrived before.
CIRCE: With Jason.
MEDEA: Must you mention his name? I carry the child of the great King of Athens, not some lowly—
CIRCE: Oh, he’s lowly now? And what are you? You brag, but you don’t live as the wife of the King of Athens. You’re only a vessel for his heirs. I’m aware of the herb you use to delay your labor. It causes great pain, doesn’t it?
MEDEA: Of course not! I wouldn’t use it if I believed it could harm my child.
CIRCE: Not for the babe, you foolish girl, but for the mother, yourself.
MEDEA: Ah, well, mothers are no strangers to pain. Each fetus that died in my cursed womb was another great sorrow. After the sixth, I thought about giving up altogether.
CIRCE: What changed your mind?
MEDEA: I remembered my promise to Aegeus.
CIRCE: A promise? Is that all? You’ve put yourself through unbearable pain, traveled all this way, and dragged me into another mess all because of a vow to yet another man. (Pause) Answer me honestly, girl: what is it that you want?
MEDEA: I don’t understand what you’re asking.
CIRCE: Aegeus will have his heir, but what about you?
MEDEA: I am also expecting a child, aren’t I?
CIRCE: Do you truly want this child?
A horn is heard in the distance.
CIRCE: Your boat has returned.
MEDEA: Aunt, please, without this ritual, my son will die!
CIRCE: And what about your children with Jason? Have you finally buried them?
MEDEA: I keep their bodies in a cooled room in Athens, guarded by armed men to protect them should Jason seek revenge.
CIRCE: Seek revenge? He wishes to bury his children, you cruel and reckless demon! Once again, you have come to me with blood on your hands, asking me to cleanse your sins. Your transgressions are your own.
MEDEA: To Jason, they were never truly his! Born of a foreign womb, my children would have been sold into slavery once his bride’s princely sons arrived. He would have never protected them. He never protected me!
MAID enters, shocked at the outburst. In her hand is a glass vial of a black liquid. She looks to CIRCE who gives her a small nod. She pours the contents of the vial into CIRCE’s glass of water. She takes a step back as CIRCE drinks. MEDEA looks from the MAID to her aunt.
MEDEA: Does your maid not know that I am a sorceress?
CIRCE: We are all sorceresses here. My dear companion is the goddess who keeps me eternally bound to this island.
She gestures to the cup she drinks from.
CIRCE: She, however, can come and go as she pleases.
She downs her drink.
CIRCE: Your husband has fathered another child. Do you honestly believe that this boy won’t one day challenge the son you bear for the throne?
MEDEA: I will equip him with all the tools at my disposal to ensure his success. My son will be king.
CIRCE: And if Aegeus betrays you in his final days? Or if the people of Athens reject you following his death? Will you slay the boy out of vengeance?
MEDEA: Aunt, it shattered my heart and mind to kill my children. I know my punishment is just, but … Aunt, please, save this one. Each miscarriage brings more agony than the last. The herb intensifies the pain. Every step I take feels like shards of glass crushing down upon my womb. (She sobs.) I don’t know how much more I can bear. My husband … he will soon be gone. My sweet Aegeus. Was his sudden poor health another cruel gift from the gods? Let his gentle and forgiving spirit live on in our child. If I must suffer, let the pain be mine alone. Spare the child.
MAID: (Apologetically) I meant to say this when I entered, but your ship has docked at the shore. The captain says he cannot wait long. The waters are already growing turbulent.
CIRCE rises and assists MEDEA, who is now openly weeping, to her feet.
CIRCE: When Odysseus abandoned me, and I was left alone with my youngest, Telegonus, I wondered what the Fates had in store for me. Was I truly meant to remain on this island until the end of days? What purpose lay in my immortality if I remained in chains? The same goes for our sorcery. What purpose does our magic serve if, as women, we continue to be powerless? No amount of herbs and potions can grant us the lives we deserve in this world. Our shackles transform into the men we bind ourselves to, starting with our fathers, then our husbands, and finally our sons.
MEDEA: Where is your son now?
CIRCE: He set out to find his father, and it has been almost a year since I heard from him last. I am so alone here. Even my companion leaves for months at a time.
MEDEA: The pain of losing all my children, even those I took the lives of myself, I want it to vanish. I’ve tried so hard to be a good wife and mother, but … oh, gods. The pain. The stabbing. It feels like it’s in my heart!
MAID: You are in labor.
MEDEA: No, it’s too soon. Please.
She grips CIRCE.
MEDEA: Please, save my son.
CIRCE turns to the MAID.
CIRCE: Go to the ship and tell the captain that Medea will not be returning. But first … contact her attendants in Athens. Instruct them to bury those poor boys. Go quickly!
The MAID exits.
MEDEA: Please, save my son.
CIRCE: Hush your crying, child. Before we continue, I must ask: do you truly want this babe?
MEDEA: I do.
CIRCE: Do you want this child to fulfill your promise?
MEDEA: I …
CIRCE: Speak only the truth.
MEDEA: Yes. For my husband.
CIRCE: If I am to save the child, you cannot leave this island. Stay here with me.
MEDEA: But what will I do here?
CIRCE: Whatever you damn well want, my girl. I will be here with you. Some days, I don’t even rise from my bed. I sleep from sunrise to sunset whenever I desire.
MEDEA: You mentioned that it’s supposed to be difficult for people to reach here. Will we never have visitors?
CIRCE: We will have visitors. They will be weary and well-traveled, interested only in what we can do for them.
MEDEA looks away, embarrassed.
CIRCE: But we will clean them up, feed them, and listen to their stories. Their adventures will become our adventures, and when it’s time, we will send them on their way and return to ourselves.
MEDEA cries out in pain. CIRCE grabs the pomegranate from the table and holds it out to her. MEDEA looks from the fruit to her aunt, understanding the implication.
MEDEA: My son won’t want to stay, and I’m scared that he’ll never return.
CIRCE: You assume the child is a boy. If it’s a girl, surely she will stay by your side.
MEDEA: Did you stay by your mother’s?
CIRCE: And look where it got me. Look where it got us.
She puts the pomegranate in MEDEA’s hand.
CIRCE: Stay with me. If your child leaves, give him something of yours that he will carry with him throughout his days—your love. Do you still remember how to love a child?
MEDEA: Oh, I do. I loved them. All the ones I lost. I loved them deeply.
CIRCE: Give him the love of those you’ve lost, and he will become a greater hero than the son of Poseidon who dares to claim his birthright.
MAID enters.
MAID: I have instructed the captain.
She sees the pomegranate in MEDEA’s hand. She looks at CIRCE but doesn’t seem surprised.
MAID: Has she decided?
MEDEA: What is my punishment if I try to leave?
MAID: The same as Lady Circe’s. The sea monster Scylla will finally get revenge on the children of Helios.
MEDEA: Eaten by a sea monster? I can’ t …
She cries out in pain.
MEDEA: Gods. Just save my child!
MEDEA eats the pomegranate and nearly faints. CIRCE and the MAID rush to keep her up. The MAID gives MEDEA water to drink. She wipes sweat from MEDEA’s forehead. CIRCE gives her a questioning look, and the MAID nods. CIRCE smiles.
CIRCE: Come, let us prepare for the birth.
The MAID watches as CIRCE and MEDEA exit.
MAID: (To audience)
Behold as I, the goddess Ilythia, speak truth on this date,
In slumber’s tender hold, our dear Aegeus met his fate.
A wife’s absence begot whispered tales of foreign sorcery,
The people of Athens gossiped, their judgments coming free.
Yet in Olympus’s chambers, the gods knew her love was true.
And this love allowed Fate to change with her life renewed.
Medea’s sons found solace in Elysian Fields’ grace.
Their burial, honorable, their spirits found their place.
Not just cleansing rites, but a choice she finally made,
To live for herself, and my curse did finally fade.
A baby’s wail is heard. The MAID smiles.
BLACKOUT.
Simi Modupeore Raji (she/they) is an award-winning Nigerian American writer from New York City whose work blends myth, memory, and magic at the margins. Their plays Third Avenue and Prometheus were produced in Lehman College’s New Voices Festival, with Third Avenue receiving professional readings at La MaMa and National Queer Theater, and publication in PEN America’s 2024 DREAMing Out Loud: An Anthology of Migrant Writers. In 2025, Simi became a Playwrights Horizons Ambassador. When not writing, they enjoy playing overpowered CRPG characters with questionable morals.