Medea — who's who

A foreigner, a princess of Colchis, granddaughter of the Sun. She betrayed her father, killed her brother, and helped Jason steal the Golden Fleece because she had fallen in love with him. The play opens with her inside the house, refusing food, refusing speech, after Jason has left her for the king's daughter. By the end of the day she will have killed the king, the king's daughter, and her own two sons, and escaped to Athens in a chariot drawn by dragons.

Medea's nurse since girlhood, brought from Colchis with her. She delivers the prologue, pacing outside the house and lamenting that the Argo ever sailed. She is afraid of what her mistress is becoming. She loves Medea, knows her best, and is praying for something to stop her — a warning the play takes seriously, because the woman doing the praying knows.

An old slave, the boys' tutor. He brings them home from play in Scene 1 with the news he has overheard at the fountain — Creon is going to expel Medea. Later he carries the gifts to Glauce with the children and returns with what seems like good news: the princess has accepted them, the children may stay. He is puzzled by Medea's anguish at the news. He does not understand what he has just delivered.

Two small boys, never named. They appear in Scene 1 returning from play, in Scene 6 carrying the gifts, and through the door in Scene 7 in the only words they speak — asking what is happening, asking for help, saying their mother has a sword. They are the only voices in the play that do not argue or persuade. They are killed offstage by their mother in the closing minutes.

The king of Corinth, father of Glauce, the woman Jason is marrying. He arrives in Scene 3 to expel Medea from the city, knowing perfectly well what she is and what she might do. He is not wrong about her. He grants her one extra day in response to her pleading, against his own better judgement, and says so as he grants it. He will die that night, tangled in the folds of the poisoned robe with his dying daughter.

The man who got the Golden Fleece, in middle age, making the sensible match. He believes his case for the new marriage is reasonable; he believes he has provided for Medea and the children as well as anyone could. He cannot understand why Medea will not accept the logic, because he has never understood what she sacrificed for him. He is the last person in the play to learn what is coming, and the play ends with him in the dust outside his own door.

The king of Athens, passing through Corinth on his way home from consulting the oracle at Delphi about his lack of children. His arrival is the structural pivot of the play — without it Medea has no escape route, and without an escape route she cannot do what she does. He swears an oath of sanctuary in good faith, in exchange for her promise of help with the childlessness. He leaves the stage with no idea what he has enabled.

A slave from Jason's household, who runs from the palace in Scene 7 to warn Medea to flee, and stays to deliver one of the most famous messenger speeches in Greek tragedy: the death of Glauce in the poisoned robe and crown, and the death of Creon trying to embrace her. He is appalled by Medea's calm pleasure at the report. He does not know yet what is about to happen to the children.

Twelve or fifteen women of the city. They come on in Scene 2 because they have heard Medea screaming and are worried. They are sympathetic from the start, and Medea's first long speech wins them — they swear to keep her secrets. They argue against the killing of the children when she begins to talk about it; they kneel in supplication; they call on the Sun and the Earth to stop her at the last moment. None of it works. They are the conscience of the play and the measure of what conscience can do.

Jason's new wife, daughter of Creon, never seen alive on stage. She is described twice. First in Scene 6 by the Attendant, who reports that she accepted the gifts graciously and Jason has won her over. Then in Scene 7 by the Messenger, who reports her death — the crown melting into her flesh, the robe burning her alive, her father destroyed in the act of trying to embrace her. She has no lines. The play uses her as the point at which Medea's revenge first becomes physical.