Nurse: Oh, cease this mad complaint,
My mistress; scarce can friendly silence help thee now.
Medea: But fortune fears the brave, the faint of heart o'erwhelms.
Nurse: Then valor be approved, if for it still there's room.160
Medea: But it must always be that valor finds its place.
Nurse: No star of hope points out the way from these our woes.
Medea: The man who hopes for naught at least has naught to fear.
Nurse: The Colchians are thy foes; thy husband's vows have failed;
Of all thy vast possessions not a jot is left.165
Medea: Yet I am left. There's left both sea and land and fire