Phaedra

Racine, Jean
Play
2024

Se reconocen los derechos morales de Racine, Jean.

Obra de dominio público.
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Fundación Carlos Slim.

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C. P. 11529, Ciudad de México. México.
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 INTRODUCTORY NOTE

JEAN BAPTISTE RACINE, the younger contemporary of Corneille, and his rival for
supremacy in French classical tragedy, was born at Ferte-Milon, December 21, 1639.
He was educated at the College of Beauvais, at the great Jansenist school at Port
Royal, and at the College d'Harcourt. He attracted notice by an ode written for the
marriage of Louis XIV in 1660, and made his first really great dramatic success with his
"Andromaque." His tragic masterpieces include "Britannicus," "Berenice," "Bajazet,"
"Mithridate," "Iphigenie," and "Phaedre," all written between 1669 and 1677. Then
for some years he gave up dramatic composition, disgusted by the intrigues of
enemies who sought to injure his career by exalting above him an unworthy rival. In
1689 he resumed his work under the persuasion of Mme. de Maintenon, and produced
"Esther" and "Athalie," the latter ranking among his finest productions, although it did
not receive public recognition until some time after his death in 1699. Besides his
tragedies, Racine wrote one comedy, "Les Plaideurs," four hymns of great beauty, and
a history of Port Royal.
The external conventions of classical tragedy which had been established by
Corneille, Racine did not attempt to modify. His study of the Greek tragedians and his
own taste led him to submit willingly to the rigor and simplicity of form which were the
fundamental marks of the classical ideal. It was in his treatment of character that he
differed most from his predecessor; for whereas, as we have seen, Corneille
represented his leading figures as heroically subduing passion by force of will, Racine
represents his as driven by almost uncontrollable passion. Thus his creations appeal to
the modern reader as more warmly human; their speech, if less exalted, is simpler and
more natural; and he succeeds more brilliantly with his portraits of women than with
those of men.
All these characteristics are exemplified in "Phaedre," the tragedy of Racine which
has made an appeal to the widest audience. To the legend as treated by Euripides,
Racine added the love of Hippolytus for Aricia, and thus supplied a motive for
Phaedra's jealousy, and at the same time he made the nurse instead of Phaedra the
calumniator of his son to Theseus.

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 PHAEDRA

CHARACTERS

THESEUS, son of Aegeus and King of Athens.

PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus and Daughter of Minos and Pasiphae.

HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus and Antiope, Queen of the Amazons.

ARICIA, Princess of the Blood Royal of Athens.

OENONE, nurse of Phaedra.

THERAMENES, tutor of Hippolytus.

ISMENE, bosom friend of Aricia.

PANOPE, waiting-woman of Phaedra.

GUARDS.

The scene is laid at Troezen, a town of the Peloponnesus.

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 ACT I

SCENE I

HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

HIPPOLYTUS

My mind is settled, dear

Theramenes,
And I can stay no more in lovely
Troezen.
In doubt that racks my soul with mortal anguish,

I grow ashamed of such long idleness.

Six months and more my father has been gone,

And what may have befallen one so dear

I know not, nor what corner of the earth

Hides him.

THERAMENES

And where, prince, will you look for him?

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 Already, to content your just alarm,

Have I not
cross'd the seas on either side
Of Corinth,
ask'd if aught were known of Theseus
Where Acheron is lost among the Shades,

Visited Elis, doubled

Toenarus,
And
sail'd into the sea that saw the fall
Of Icarus? Inspired with what new hope,

Under what
favour'd skies think you to trace
His footsteps? Who knows if the King, your father,

Wishes the secret of his absence known?

Perchance, while we are trembling for his life,

The hero calmly plots some fresh intrigue,

And only waits till the deluded fair—

HIPPOLYTUS

Cease, dear
Theramenes, respect the name
Of Theseus. Youthful errors have been left

Behind, and no unworthy obstacle

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 Detains him. Phaedra long has
fix'd a heart
Inconstant once, nor need she fear a rival.

In seeking him I shall but do my duty,

And leave a place I dare no longer see.

THERAMENES

Indeed! When, prince, did you begin to dread

These peaceful haunts, so dear to happy childhood,

Where I have seen you oft prefer to stay,

Rather than meet the tumult and the pomp

Of Athens and the court? What danger shun you,

Or shall I say what grief?

HIPPOLYTUS

That happy time

Is gone, and all is changed, since to these shores

The gods sent Phaedra.

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 THERAMENES

I perceive the cause

Of your distress. It is the queen whose sight

Offends you. With a step-dame's spite she schemed

Your exile soon as she set eyes on you.

But if her hatred is not wholly

vanish'd,
It has at least taken a milder aspect.

Besides, what danger can a dying woman,

One too who longs for death, bring on your head?

Can Phaedra,
sick'ning of a dire disease
Of which she will not speak, weary of life

And of herself, form any plots against you?

HIPPOLYTUS

It is not her vain enmity I fear,

Another foe alarms Hippolytus.

I fly, it must be own'd, from young Aricia,

The sole survivor of an impious race.

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 THERAMENES

What! You become her persecutor too!

The gentle sister of the cruel sons

Of Pallas shared not in their perfidy;

Why should you hate such charming innocence?

HIPPOLYTUS

I should not need to fly, if it were hatred.

THERAMENES

May I, then, learn the meaning of your flight?

Is this the proud Hippolytus I see,

Than whom there breathed no fiercer foe to love

And to that yoke which Theseus has so oft

Endured? And can it be that Venus,

scorn'd
So long, will justify your sire at last?

Has she, then, setting you with other mortals,

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 Forced e'en Hippolytus to offer incense

Before her? Can you love?

HIPPOLYTUS

Friend, ask me not.

You, who have known my heart from infancy

And all its feelings of disdainful pride,

Spare me the shame of disavowing all

That I
profess'd. Born of an Amazon,
The wildness that you wonder at I
suck'd
With mother's milk. When come to riper age,

Reason approved what Nature had implanted.

Sincerely bound to me by zealous service,

You told me then the story of my sire,

And know how oft, attentive to your voice,

I kindled when I heard his noble acts,

As you described him bringing consolation

To mortals for the absence of Alcides,

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 The highways
clear'd of monsters and of robbers,
Procrustes,
Cercyon, Sciro, Sinnis slain,
The
Epidaurian giant's bones dispersed,
Crete reeking with the blood of Minotaur.

But when you told me of less glorious deeds,

Troth plighted here and there and everywhere,

Young Helen stolen from her home at Sparta,

And
Periboea's tears in Salamis,
With many another trusting heart deceived

Whose very names have 'scaped his memory,

Forsaken Ariadne to the rocks

Complaining, last this Phaedra, bound to him

By better ties,—you know with what regret

I heard and urged you to cut short the tale,

Happy had I been able to erase

From my remembrance that unworthy part

Of such a splendid record. I, in turn,

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 Am I too made the slave of love, and brought

To stoop so low? The more contemptible

That no renown is mine such as exalts

The name of Theseus, that no monsters

quell'd
Have given me a right to share his weakness.

And if my pride of heart must needs be humbled,

Aricia should have been the last to tame it.

Was I beside myself to have forgotten

Eternal barriers of separation

Between us? By my father's stern command

Her brethren's blood must ne'er be reinforced

By sons of hers; he dreads a single shoot

From stock so guilty, and would fain with her

Bury their name, that, even to the tomb

Content to be his ward, for her no torch

Of Hymen may be lit. Shall I espouse

Her rights against my sire, rashly provoke

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 His wrath, and launch upon a mad career—

THERAMENES

The gods, dear prince, if once your hour is come,

Care little for the reasons that should guide us.

Wishing to shut your eyes, Theseus unseals them;

His hatred, stirring a rebellious flame

Within you, lends his enemy new charms.

And, after all, why should a guiltless passion

Alarm you? Dare you not essay its sweetness,

But follow rather a fastidious scruple?

Fear you to stray where Hercules has

wander'd?
What heart so stout that Venus has not
vanquish'd?
Where would you be yourself, so long her foe,

Had your own mother, constant in her scorn

Of love, ne'er glowed with tenderness for Theseus?

What boots it to affect a pride you feel not?

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 Confess it, all is changed; for some time past

You have been seldom seen with wild delight

Urging the rapid car along the strand,

Or,
skilful in the art that Neptune taught,
Making
th' unbroken steed obey the bit;
Less often have the woods
return'd our shouts;
A secret burden on your spirits cast

Has
dimm'd your eye. How can I doubt you love?
Vainly would you conceal the fatal wound.

Has not the fair Aricia

touch'd your heart?

HIPPOLYTUS

Theramenes, I go to find my father.

THERAMENES

Will you not see the queen before you start,

My prince?

HIPPOLYTUS

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 That is my purpose: you can tell her.

Yes, I will see her; duty bids me do it.

But what new ill vexes her dear Oenone?

SCENE II

HIPPOLYTUS, OENONE, THERAMENES

OENONE

Alas, my lord, what grief was e'er like mine?

The queen has almost

touch'd the gates of death.
Vainly close watch I keep by day and night,

E'en in my arms a secret malady

Slays her, and all her senses are

disorder'd.
Weary yet restless from her couch she rises,

Pants for the outer air, but bids me see

That no one on her misery intrudes.

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 She comes.

HIPPOLYTUS

Enough. She shall not be

disturb'd,
Nor be confronted with a face she hates.

SCENE III

PHAEDRA, OENONE

PHAEDRA

We have gone far enough. Stay, dear Oenone;

Strength fails me, and I needs must rest awhile.

My eyes are dazzled with this glaring light

So long unseen, my trembling knees refuse

Support. Ah me!

OENONE

Would Heaven that our tears

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 Might bring relief!

PHAEDRA

Ah, how these cumbrous gauds,

These veils oppress me! What officious hand

Has tied these knots, and

gather'd o'er my brow
These clustering coils? How all conspires to add

To my distress!

OENONE

What is one moment

wish'd,
The next, is irksome. Did you not just now,

Sick of inaction, bid us deck you out,

And, with your former energy

recall'd,
Desire to go abroad, and see the light

Of day once more? You see it, and would fain

Be hidden from the sunshine that you sought.

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 PHAEDRA

Thou glorious author of a hapless race,

Whose daughter 'twas my mother's boast to be,

Who well
may'st blush to see me in such plight,
For the last time I come to look on thee,

O Sun!

OENONE

What! Still are you in love with death?

Shall I ne'er see you, reconciled to life,

Forego these cruel accents of despair?

PHAEDRA

Would I were seated in the forest's shade!

When may I follow with delighted eye,

Thro' glorious dust flying in full career,

A chariot—

OENONE

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 Madam?

PHAEDRA

Have I lost my senses?

What said I? and where am I? Whither stray

Vain wishes? Ah! The gods have made me mad.

I blush, Oenone, and confusion covers

My face, for I have let you see too clearly

The shame of grief that, in my own despite,

O'erflows these eyes of mine.

OENONE

If you must blush,

Blush at a silence that inflames your woes.

Resisting all my care, deaf to my voice,

Will you have no compassion on yourself,

But let your life be ended in

mid course?
What evil spell has

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drain'd its fountain dry?
Thrice have the shades of night obscured the
heav'ns
Since sleep has
enter'd thro' your eyes, and thrice
The dawn has chased the darkness thence, since food

Pass'd your wan lips, and you are faint and languid.
To what dread purpose is your heart inclined?

How dare you make attempts upon your life,

And so offend the gods who gave it you,

Prove false to Theseus and your marriage vows,

Ay, and betray your most unhappy children,

Bending their necks yourself beneath the yoke?

That day, be sure, which robs them of their mother,

Will give high hopes back to the stranger's son,

To that proud enemy of you and yours,

To whom an Amazon gave birth, I mean

Hippolytus—

PHAEDRA

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 Ye gods!

OENONE

Ah, this reproach

Moves you!

PHAEDRA

Unhappy woman, to what name

Gave your mouth utterance?

OENONE

Your wrath is just.

'Tis well that that ill-

omen'd name can rouse
Such rage. Then live. Let love and duty urge

Their claims. Live, suffer not this son of Scythia,

Crushing your children 'neath his odious sway,

To rule the noble offspring of the gods,

The purest blood of Greece. Make no delay;

Each moment threatens death; quickly restore

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 Your
shatter'd strength, while yet the torch of life
Holds out, and can be
fann'd into a flame.

PHAEDRA

Too long have I endured its guilt and shame!

OENONE

Why? What remorse gnaws at your heart? What crime

Can have
disturb'd you thus? Your hands are not
Polluted with the blood of innocence?

PHAEDRA

Thanks be to Heav'n, my hands are free from stain.

Would that my soul were innocent as they!

OENONE

What awful project have you then conceived,

Whereat your conscience should be still

alarm'd?

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 PHAEDRA

Have I not said enough? Spare me the rest.

I die to save myself a full confession.

OENONE

Die then, and keep a silence so inhuman;

But seek some other hand to close your eyes.

Tho' but a spark of life remains within you,

My soul shall go before you to the Shades.

A thousand roads are always open thither;

Pain'd at your want of confidence, I'll choose

The shortest. Cruel one, when has my faith

Deceived you! Think how in my arms you lay

New born. For you, my country and my children

I have forsaken. Do you thus repay

My faithful service?

PHAEDRA

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 What do you expect

From words so bitter?

Were I to break silence
Horror would freeze your blood.

OENONE

What can you say

To horrify me more than to behold

You die before my eyes?

PHAEDRA

When you shall know

My crime, my death will follow none the less,

But with the added stain of guilt.

OENONE

Dear Madam,

By all the tears that I have shed for you,

By these weak knees I clasp, relieve my mind

From torturing doubt.

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 PHAEDRA

It is your wish. Then rise.

OENONE

I hear you. Speak.

PHAEDRA

Heav'ns! How shall I begin?

OENONE

Dismiss vain fears, you wound me with distrust.

PHAEDRA

O fatal animosity of Venus!

Into what wild distractions did she cast

My mother!

OENONE

Be they blotted from remembrance,

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 And for all time to come buried in silence.

PHAEDRA

My sister Ariadne, by what love

Were you
betray'd to death, on lonely shores
Forsaken!

OENONE

Madam, what deep-seated pain

Prompts these reproaches against all your kin?

PHAEDRA

It is the will of Venus, and I perish,

Last, most unhappy of a family

Where all were wretched.

OENONE

Do you love?

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 PHAEDRA

I feel

All its mad fever.

OENONE

Ah! For whom?

PHAEDRA

Hear now

The crowning horror. Yes, I love—my lips

Tremble to say his name.

OENONE

Whom?

PHAEDRA

Know you him,

Son of the Amazon, whom I've

oppress'd
So long?

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 OENONE

Hippolytus? Great gods!

PHAEDRA

'Tis you

Have named him.

OENONE

All my blood within my veins

Seems frozen. O despair! O cursed race!

Ill-
omen'd journey! Land of misery!
Why did we ever reach thy dangerous shores?

PHAEDRA

My wound is not so recent. Scarcely had I

Been bound to Theseus by the marriage yoke,

And happiness and peace

seem'd well secured,
When Athens
show'd me my proud enemy.

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 I
look'd, alternately turn'd pale and blush'd
To see him, and my soul grew all distraught;

A mist obscured my vision, and my voice

Falter'd, my blood ran cold, then burn'd like fire;

Venus I felt in all my
fever'd frame,
Whose fury had so many of my race

Pursued. With fervent vows I sought to shun

Her torments, built and

deck'd for her a shrine,
And there, 'mid countless victims did I seek

The reason I had lost; but all for naught,

No remedy could cure the wounds of love!

In vain I
offer'd incense on her altars;
When I invoked her

name my heart adored

Hippolytus, before me constantly;

And when I made her altars smoke with victims,

'Twas for a god whose name I dared not utter.

I fled his presence everywhere, but found him—

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 O crowning horror!—in his father's features.

Against myself, at last, I raised revolt,

And
stirr'd my courage up to persecute
The enemy I loved. To banish him

I wore a step—dame's harsh and jealous carriage,

With ceaseless cries I

clamour'd for his exile,
Till I had torn him from his father's arms.

I breathed once more, Oenone; in his absence

My days
flow'd on less troubled than before,
And innocent. Submissive to my husband,

I hid my grief, and of our fatal marriage

Cherish'd the fruits. Vain caution! Cruel Fate!

Brought hither by my spouse himself, I saw

Again the enemy whom I had

banish'd,
And the old wound too quickly bled afresh.

No longer is it love hid in my heart,

But Venus in her might seizing her prey.

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 I have conceived just terror for my crime;

I hate my life, and hold my love in horror.

Dying I
wish'd to keep my fame unsullied,
And bury in the grave a guilty passion;

But I have been unable to withstand

Tears and entreaties, I have told you all;

Content, if only, as my end draws near,

You do not vex me with unjust reproaches,

Nor with vain efforts seek to snatch from death

The last faint lingering sparks of vital breath.

SCENE IV

PHAEDRA, OENONE, PANOPE

PANOPE

Fain would I hide from you tidings so sad,

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 But 'tis my duty, Madam, to reveal them.

The hand of death has seized your peerless husband,

And you are last to hear of this disaster.

OENONE

What say you,

Panope?

PANOPE

The queen, deceived

By a vain trust in Heav'n, begs safe return

For Theseus, while Hippolytus his son

Learns of his death from vessels that are now

In port.

PHAEDRA

Ye gods!

PANOPE

Divided counsels sway

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 The choice of Athens; some would have the prince,

Your child, for master; others, disregarding

The laws, dare to support the stranger's son.

'Tis even said that a presumptuous faction

Would crown Aricia and the house of Pallas.

I
deem'd it right to warn you of this danger.
Hippolytus already is prepared

To start, and should he show himself at Athens,

'Tis to be
fear'd the fickle crowd will all
Follow his lead.

OENONE

Enough. The queen, who hears you,

By no means will neglect this timely warning.

SCENE V

PHAEDRA, OENONE

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 OENONE

Dear lady, I had almost ceased to urge

The wish that you should live, thinking to follow

My mistress to the tomb, from which my voice

Had
fail'd to turn you; but this new misfortune
Alters the aspect of affairs, and prompts

Fresh measures. Madam, Theseus is no more,

You must supply his place. He leaves a son,

A slave, if you should die, but, if you live,

A King. On whom has he to lean but you?

No hand but yours will dry his tears. Then live

For him, or else the tears of innocence

Will move the gods, his ancestors, to wrath

Against his mother. Live, your guilt is gone,

No blame attaches to your passion now.

The King's decease has freed you from the bonds

That made the crime and horror of your love.

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 Hippolytus no longer need be dreaded,

Him you may see henceforth without reproach.

It may be, that, convinced of your aversion,

He means to head the rebels. Undeceive him,

Soften his callous heart, and bend his pride.

King of this fertile land, in

Troezen here
His portion lies; but as he knows, the laws

Give to your son the ramparts that Minerva

Built and protects. A common enemy

Threatens you both, unite them to oppose

Aricia.

PHAEDRA

To your counsel I consent.

Yes, I will live, if life can be restored,

If my affection for a son has

pow'r
To rouse my sinking heart at such a dangerous hour.

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36
 ACT II

SCENE I

ARICIA, ISMENE

ARICIA

Hippolytus request to see me here!

Hippolytus desire to bid farewell!

Is't true, Ismene? Are you not deceived?

ISMENE

This is the first result of Theseus' death.

Prepare yourself to see from every side.

Hearts turn towards you that were kept away

By Theseus. Mistress of her lot at last,

Aricia soon shall find all Greece fall low,

To do her homage.

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 ARICIA

'Tis not then, Ismene,

An idle tale? Am I no more a slave?

Have I no enemies?

ISMENE

The gods oppose

Your peace no longer, and the soul of Theseus

Is with your brothers.

ARICIA

Does the voice of fame

Tell how he died?

ISMENE

Rumours incredible
Are spread. Some say that, seizing a new bride,

The faithless husband by the waves was

swallow'd.
Others affirm, and this report prevails,

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 That with
Pirithous to the world below
He went, and saw the shores of dark Cocytus,

Showing himself alive to the pale ghosts;

But that he could not leave those gloomy realms,

Which whoso enters there abides

for ever.

ARICIA

Shall I believe that ere his destined hour

A mortal may descend into the gulf

Of Hades? What attraction could

o'ercome
Its terrors?

ISMENE

He is dead, and you alone

Doubt it. The men of Athens mourn his loss.

Troezen already hails Hippolytus

As King. And Phaedra, fearing for her son,

Asks counsel of the friends who share her trouble,

39
Here in this palace.

ARICIA

Will Hippolytus,

Think you, prove kinder than his sire, make light

My chains, and pity my misfortunes?

ISMENE

Yes,

I think so, Madam.

ARICIA

Ah, you know him not

Or you would never deem so hard a heart

Can pity feel, or me alone except

From the contempt in which he holds our sex.

Has he not long avoided every spot

Where we resort?

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 ISMENE

I know what tales are told

Of proud Hippolytus, but I have seen

Him near you, and have

watch'd with curious eye
How one
esteem'd so cold would bear himself.
Little did his behavior correspond

With what I
look'd for; in his face confusion

Appear'd at your first glance, he could not turn

His languid eyes away, but gazed on you.

Love is a word that may offend his pride,

But what the tongue disowns, looks can betray.

ARICIA

How eagerly my heart hears what you say,

Tho' it may be delusion, dear Ismene!

Did it seem possible to you, who know me,

That I, sad sport of a relentless Fate,

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 Fed upon bitter tears by night and day,

Could ever taste the maddening draught of love?

The last frail offspring of a royal race,

Children of Earth, I only have survived

War's fury. Cut off in the

flow'r of youth,
Mown by the sword, six brothers have I lost,

The hope of an illustrious house, whose blood

Earth drank with sorrow, near akin to his

Whom she herself produced. Since then, you know

How thro' all Greece no heart has been

allow'd
To sigh for me, lest by a sister's flame

The brothers' ashes be perchance rekindled.

You know, besides, with what disdain I

view'd
My conqueror's suspicions and precautions,

And how,
oppos'd as I have ever been
To love, I often
thank'd the King's injustice
Which happily
confirm'd my inclination.

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 But then I never had beheld his son.

Not that, attracted merely by the eye, I

love him for his beauty and his grace,

Endowments which he owes to Nature's bounty,

Charms which he seems to know not or to scorn.

I love and prize in him riches more rare,

The virtues of his sire, without his faults.

I love, as I must own, that generous pride

Which ne'er has

stoop'd beneath the amorous yoke.
Phaedra reaps little glory from a lover

So lavish of his sighs; I am too proud

To share devotion with a thousand others,

Or enter where the door is always open.

But to make one who ne'er has

stoop'd before
Bend his proud neck, to pierce a heart of stone,

To bind a captive whom his chains astonish,

Who vainly '

gainst a pleasing yoke rebels,—

43
 That piques my
ardour, and I long for that.

'Twas easier to disarm the god of strength

Than this Hippolytus, for Hercules

Yielded so often to the eyes of beauty,

As to make triumph cheap. But, dear Ismene,

I take too little heed of opposition

Beyond my
pow'r to quell, and you may hear me,
Humbled by sore defeat, upbraid the pride

I now admire. What! Can he love? and I

Have had the happiness to bend—

ISMENE

He comes

Yourself shall hear him.

SCENE II

HIPPOLYTUS, ARICIA, ISMENE

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HIPPOLYTUS
Lady, ere I go

My duty bids me tell you of your change

Of fortune. My worst fears are realized;

My sire is dead. Yes, his protracted absence

Was caused as I foreboded. Death alone,

Ending his toils, could keep him from the world

Conceal'd so long. The gods at last have doom'd

Alcides' friend, companion, and successor.

I think your hatred, tender to his virtues,

Can hear such terms of praise without resentment,

Knowing them due. One hope have I that soothes

My sorrow: I can free you from restraint.

Lo, I revoke the laws whose

rigour moved
My pity; you are at your own disposal,

Both heart and hand; here, in my heritage,

In

45
Troezen, where my grandsire Pittheus reign'd
Of yore and I am now acknowledged King,

I leave you free, free as myself,—and more.

ARICIA

Your kindness is too great, 'tis overwhelming.

Such generosity, that pays disgrace

With
honour, lends more force than you can think
To those harsh laws from which you would release me.

HIPPOLYTUS

Athens, uncertain how to fill the throne

Of Theseus, speaks of you, anon of me,

And then of Phaedra's son.

ARICIA

Of me, my lord?

HIPPOLYTUS

I know myself excluded by strict law:

46
 Greece turns to my reproach a foreign mother.

But if my brother were my only rival,

My rights prevail o'er his clearly enough

To make me careless of the law's caprice.

My forwardness is
check'd by juster claims:
To you I yield my place, or, rather, own

That it is yours by right, and yours the

sceptre,
As handed down from Earth's great son,
Erechtheus.
Adoption placed it in the hands of Aegeus:

Athens, by him protected and increased,

Welcomed a king so generous as my sire,

And left your hapless brothers in oblivion.

Now she invites you back within her walls;

Protracted strife has cost her groans enough,

Her fields are glutted with your kinsmen's blood

Fatt'ning the furrows out of which it sprung

At first. I rule this

47
Troezen; while the son
Of Phaedra has in Crete a rich domain.

Athens is yours. I will do all I can

To join for you the votes divided now

Between us.

ARICIA

Stunn'd at all I hear, my lord,

I fear, I almost fear a dream deceives me.

Am I indeed awake? Can I believe

Such generosity? What god has put it

Into your heart? Well is the fame deserved

That you enjoy! That fame falls short of truth!

Would you for me prove traitor to yourself?

Was it not boon enough never to hate me,

So long to have
abstain'd from harbouring
The enmity—

HIPPOLYTUS

48
 To hate you? I, to hate you?

However darkly my fierce pride was painted,

Do you suppose a monster gave me birth?

What savage temper, what

envenom'd hatred
Would not be mollified at sight of you?

Could I resist the soul-bewitching charm—

ARICIA

Why, what is this, Sir?

HIPPOLYTUS

I have said too much

Not to say more. Prudence in vain resists

The violence of passion. I have broken

Silence at last, and I must tell you now

The secret that my heart can hold no longer.

You see before you an unhappy instance

Of hasty pride, a prince who claims compassion

49
 I, who, so long the enemy of Love,

Mock'd at his fetters and despised his captives,

Who, pitying poor mortals that were
shipwreck'd,
In seeming safety
view'd the storms from land,
Now find myself to the same fate exposed,

Toss'd to and fro upon a sea of troubles!

My boldness has been
vanquish'd in a moment,
And humbled is the pride wherein I boasted.

For nearly six months past, ashamed, despairing,

Bearing
where'er I go the shaft that rends
My heart, I struggle vainly to be free

From you and from myself; I shun you, present;

Absent, I find you near; I see your form

In the dark forest depths; the shades of night,

Nor less broad daylight, bring back to my view

The charms that I avoid; all things conspire

To make Hippolytus your slave. For fruit

50
 Of all my bootless sighs, I fail to find

My former self. My bow and javelins

Please me no more, my chariot is forgotten,

With all the Sea God's lessons; and the woods

Echo my groans instead of joyous shouts

Urging my fiery steeds.

Hearing this tale

Of passion so uncouth, you blush perchance

At your own handiwork. With what wild words

I offer you my heart, strange captive held

By silken jess! But dearer in your eyes

Should be the offering, that this language comes

Strange to my lips; reject not vows

express'd
So ill, which but for you had ne'er been
form'd.

SCENE III

51
 HIPPOLYTUS, ARICIA, THERAMENES, ISMENE

THERAMENES
Prince, the Queen comes. I herald her approach.

'Tis you she seeks.

HIPPOLYTUS

Me?

THERAMENES

What her thought

may be
I know not. But I speak on her behalf.

She would converse with you

ere you go hence.

HIPPOLYTUS

What shall I say to her? Can she expect—

ARICIA

You cannot, noble Prince, refuse to hear her,

52
Howe'er convinced she is your enemy,
Some shade of pity to her tears is due.

HIPPOLYTUS

Shall we part thus? and will you let me go,

Not knowing if my boldness has offended

The goddess I adore? Whether this heart,

Left in your hands—

ARICIA

Go, Prince, pursue the schemes

Your generous soul dictates, make Athens own

My
sceptre. All the gifts you offer me
Will I accept, but this high throne of empire

Is not the one most precious in my sight.

SCENE IV

HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

53
HIPPOLYTUS

Friend, is all ready?

But the Queen approaches.

Go, see the vessel in fit trim to sail.

Haste, bid the crew aboard, and hoist the signal:

Then soon return, and so deliver me

From interview most irksome.

SCENE V

PHAEDRA, HIPPOLYTUS, OENONE

PHAEDRA (to OENONE)

There I see him!

My blood forgets to flow, my tongue to speak

What I am come to say.

54
 OENONE

Think of your son,

How all his hopes depend on you.

PHAEDRA

I hear

You leave us, and in haste. I come to add

My tears to your distress, and for a son

Plead my alarm. No more has he a father,

And at no distant day my son must witness

My death. Already do a thousand foes

Threaten his youth. You only can defend him

But in my secret heart remorse awakes,

And fear lest I have shut your ears against

His cries. I tremble lest your righteous anger

Visit on him ere long the hatred

earn'd
By me, his mother.

55
 HIPPOLYTUS

No such base resentment,

Madam, is mine.

PHAEDRA

I could not blame you, Prince,

If you should hate me. I have injured you:

So much you know, but could not read my heart.

T' incur your enmity has been mine aim.

The self-same borders could not hold us both;

In public and in private I declared

Myself your foe, and found no peace till seas

Parted us from each other. I forbade

Your very name to be pronounced before me.

And yet if punishment should be

proportion'd
To the offence, if only hatred draws

Your hatred, never woman merited

56
 More pity, less deserved your enmity.

HIPPOLYTUS

A mother jealous of her children's rights

Seldom forgives the offspring of a wife

Who
reign'd before her. Harassing suspicions
Are common sequels of a second marriage.

Of me would any other have been jealous

No less than you, perhaps more violent.

PHAEDRA

Ah, Prince, how Heav'n has from the general law

Made me exempt, be that same Heav'n my witness!

Far different is the trouble that devours me!

HIPPOLYTUS

This is no time for self-reproaches, Madam.

It may be that your husband still beholds

57
The light, and Heav'n may grant him safe return,

In answer to our prayers. His guardian god

Is Neptune, ne'er by him invoked in vain.

PHAEDRA

He who has seen the mansions of the dead

Returns not thence. Since to those gloomy shores

Theseus is gone, 'tis vain to hope that Heav'n

May send him back. Prince, there is no release

From Acheron's greedy maw. And yet, methinks,

He lives, and breathes in you. I see him still

Before me, and to him I seem to speak;

My heart—

Oh! I am mad; do what I will,

I cannot hide my passion.

HIPPOLYTUS

Yes, I see

58
 The strange effects of love. Theseus,
tho' dead,
Seems present to your eyes, for in your soul

There burns a constant flame.

PHAEDRA

Ah, yes for Theseus

I languish and I long, not as the Shades

Have seen him, of a thousand different forms

The fickle lover, and of Pluto's bride

The would-be ravisher, but faithful, proud

E'en to a slight disdain, with youthful charms

Attracting every heart, as gods are painted,

Or like yourself. He had your mien, your eyes,

Spoke and could blush like you, when to the isle

Of Crete, my childhood's home, he

cross'd the waves,
Worthy to win the love of Minos' daughters.

What were you doing then? Why did he gather

The

59
flow'r of Greece, and leave Hippolytus?
Oh, why were you too young to have
embark'd
On board the ship that brought thy sire to Crete?

At your hands would the monster then have

perish'd,
Despite the windings of his vast retreat.

To guide your doubtful steps within the maze

My sister would have

arm'd you with the clue.
But no, therein would Phaedra have
forestall'd her,
Love would have first inspired me with the thought;

And I it would have been whose timely aid

Had taught you all the labyrinth's crooked ways.

What anxious care a life so dear had cost me!

No thread had satisfied your lover's fears:

I would myself have

wish'd to lead the way,
And share the peril you were bound to face;

Phaedra with you would have explored the maze,

With you emerged in safety, or have

perish'd.

60
 HIPPOLYTUS

Gods! What is this I hear? Have you forgotten

That Theseus is my father and your husband?

PHAEDRA

Why should you fancy I have lost remembrance

Thereof, and am regardless of mine

honour?

HIPPOLYTUS

Forgive me, Madam. With a blush I own

That I misconstrued words of innocence.

For very shame I cannot bear your sight

Longer. I go—

PHAEDRA

Ah! cruel Prince, too well

You understood me. I have said enough

To save you from mistake. I love. But think not

That at the moment when I love you most

61
 I do not feel my guilt; no weak compliance

Has fed the poison that infects my brain.

The ill-
starr'd object of celestial vengeance,
I am not so detestable to you

As to myself. The gods will bear me witness,

Who have within my veins kindled this fire,

The gods, who take a barbarous delight

In leading a poor mortal's heart astray.

Do you yourself recall to mind the past:

'Twas not enough for me to fly, I chased you

Out of the country, wishing to appear

Inhuman, odious; to resist you better,

I sought to make you hate me. All in vain!

Hating me more I loved you none the less:

New charms were lent to you by your misfortunes.

I have been
drown'd in tears, and scorch'd by fire;
Your own eyes might convince you of the truth,

62
 If for one moment you could look at me.

What
is't I say? Think you this vile confession
That I have made is what I meant to utter?

Not daring to betray a son for whom

I trembled, 'twas to beg you not to hate him

I came. Weak purpose of a heart too full

Of love for you to speak of aught besides!

Take your revenge, punish my odious passion;

Prove yourself worthy of your valiant sire,

And rid the world of an offensive monster!

Does Theseus' widow dare to love his son?

The frightful monster! Let her not escape you!

Here is my heart. This is the place to strike.

Already prompt to expiate its guilt,

I feel it leap impatiently to meet

Your arm. Strike home. Or, if it would disgrace you

To steep your hand in such polluted blood,

63
 If that were punishment too mild to slake

Your hatred, lend me then your sword, if not

Your arm. Quick,

give't.

OENONE

What, Madam, will you do?

Just gods! But someone comes. Go, fly from shame,

You cannot 'scape if seen by any thus.

SCENE VI

HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

THERAMENES

Is that the form of Phaedra that I see

Hurried away? What mean these signs of sorrow?

Where is your sword? Why are you pale, confused?

64
 HIPPOLYTUS

Friend, let us fly. I am, indeed, confounded

With horror and astonishment extreme.

Phaedra—but no; gods, let this dreadful secret

Remain
for ever buried in oblivion.

THERAMENES

The ship is ready if you wish to sail.

But Athens has already

giv'n her vote;
Their leaders have consulted all her tribes;

Your brother is elected, Phaedra wins.

HIPPOLYTUS

Phaedra?

THERAMENES

A herald, charged with a commission

From Athens, has arrived to place the reins

Of power in her hands. Her son is King.

65
 HIPPOLYTUS

Ye gods, who know her, do ye thus reward

Her virtue?

THERAMENES

A faint
rumour meanwhile whispers
That Theseus is not dead, but in Epirus

Has shown himself. But, after all my search,

I know too well—

HIPPOLYTUS

Let nothing be neglected.

This
rumour must be traced back to its source.
If it be found unworthy of belief,

Let us set sail, and cost whate'er it may,

To hands deserving trust the

sceptre's sway.

66
67
 ACT III

Scene I

PHAEDRA, OENONE

PHAEDRA

Ah! Let them take elsewhere the worthless

honours
They bring me. Why so urgent I should see them?

What flattering balm can soothe my wounded heart?

Far rather hide me: I have said too much.

My madness has burst forth like streams in flood,

And I have
utter'd what should ne'er have reach'd
His ear. Gods! How he heard me! How reluctant

To catch my meaning, dull and cold as marble,

And eager only for a quick retreat!

How oft his blushes made my shame the deeper!

Why did you turn me from the death I sought?

68
 Ah! When his sword was pointed to my bosom,

Did he grow pale, or try to snatch it from me?

That I had
touch'd it was enough for him
To render it
for ever horrible,
Leaving defilement on the hand that holds it.

OENONE

Thus brooding on your bitter disappointment,

You only fan a fire that must be stifled.

Would it not be more worthy of the blood

Of Minos to find peace in nobler cares,

And, in defiance of a wretch who flies

From what he hates, reign, mount the

proffer'd throne?

PHAEDRA

I reign! Shall I the rod of empire sway,

When reason reigns no longer o'er myself?

When I have lost control of all my senses?

69
 When 'neath a shameful yoke I scarce can breathe?

When I am dying?

OENONE

Fly.

PHAEDRA

I cannot leave him.

OENONE

Dare you not fly from him you dared to banish?

PHAEDRA

The time for that is past. He knows my frenzy.

I have
o'erstepp'd the bounds of modesty,
And
blazon'd forth my shame before his eyes.
Hope stole into my heart against my will.

Did you not rally my declining

pow'rs?
Was it not you yourself
recall'd my soul

70
 When fluttering on my lips, and with your counsel,

Lent me fresh life, and told me I might love him?

OENONE

Blame me or blame me not for your misfortunes,

Of what was I incapable, to save you?

But if your indignation e'er was roused

By insult, can you pardon his contempt?

How cruelly his eyes, severely

fix'd,

Survey'd you almost prostrate at his feet!

How hateful then
appear'd his savage pride!
Why did not Phaedra see him then as I

Beheld him?

PHAEDRA

This proud mood that you resent

May yield to time. The rudeness of the forests

Where he was bred, inured to rigorous laws,

71
 Clings to him still; love is a word he ne'er

Had heard before. It may be his surprise

Stunn'd him, and too much vehemence was shown

In all I said.

OENONE

Remember that his mother

Was a barbarian.

PHAEDRA

Scythian
tho' she was,
She learned to love.

OENONE

He has for all the sex

Hatred intense.

PHAEDRA

Then in his heart no rival

72
 Shall ever reign. Your counsel comes too late

Oenone, serve my madness, not my reason.

His heart is inaccessible to love.

Let us attack him where he has more feeling.

The charms of sovereignty

appear'd to touch him;
He could not hide that he was drawn to Athens;

His vessels' prows were thither

turn'd already,
All sail was set to scud before the breeze.

Go you on my behalf, to his ambition

Appeal, and let the prospect of the crown

Dazzle his eyes. The sacred diadem

Shall deck his brow, no higher

honour mine
Than there to bind it. His shall be the
pow'r
I cannot keep; and he shall teach my son

How to rule men. It may be he will deign

To be to him a father. Son and mother

He shall control. Try

ev'ry means to move him;

73
 Your words will find more
favour than can mine.
Urge him with groans and tears; show Phaedra dying.

Nor blush to use the voice of supplication.

In you is my last hope; I'll sanction all

You say; and on the issue hangs my fate.

Scene II

PHAEDRA (alone)

Venus implacable, who

seest me shamed
And sore confounded, have I not enough

Been humbled? How can cruelty be

stretch'd
Farther? Thy shafts have all gone home, and thou

Hast
triumph'd. Would'st thou win a new renown?
Attack an enemy more contumacious:

Hippolytus neglects thee, braves thy wrath,

Nor ever at thine altars

74
bow'd the knee.
Thy name offends his proud, disdainful ears.

Our interests are alike: avenge thyself,

Force him to love—

But what is this? Oenone

Return'd already? He detests me then,

And will not hear you.

SCENE III

PHAEDRA, OENONE

OENONE

Madam, you must stifle

A fruitless love. Recall your former virtue:

The king who was thought dead will soon appear

Before your eyes, Theseus has just arrived,

Theseus is here. The people flock to see him

75
 With eager haste. I went by your command

To find the prince, when with a thousand shouts

The air was rent—

PHAEDRA

My husband is alive,

That is enough, Oenone. I have own'd

A passion that
dishonours him. He lives:
I ask to know no more.

OENONE

What?

PHAEDRA

I foretold it,

But you refused to hear. Your tears

prevail'd
Over my just remorse. Dying this morn,

I had deserved compassion; your advice

I took, and die

76
dishonour'd.

OENONE

Die?

PHAEDRA

Just
Heav'ns!
What have I done to-day? My husband comes,

With him his son: and I shall see the witness

Of my adulterous flame watch with what face

I greet his father, while my heart is big

With sighs he
scorn'd, and tears that could not move him
Moisten mine eyes. Think you that his respect

For Theseus will induce him to conceal

My madness, nor disgrace his sire and king?

Will he be able to keep back the horror

He has for me? His silence would be vain.

I know my treason, and I lack the boldness

Of those

77
abandon'd women who can taste

Tranquillity in crime, and show a forehead

All
unabash'd. I recognize my madness,
Recall it all. These vaulted roofs, methinks,

These walls can speak, and, ready to accuse me,

Wait but my husband's presence to reveal

My perfidy. Death only can remove

This weight of horror. Is it such misfortune

To cease to live? Death causes no alarm

To misery. I only fear the name

That I shall leave behind me. For my sons

How sad a heritage! The blood of Jove

Might justly swell the pride that boasts descent

From Heav'n, but heavy weighs a mother's guilt

Upon her offspring. Yes, I dread the scorn

That will be cast on them, with too much truth,

For my disgrace. I tremble when I think

That,

78
crush'd beneath that curse, they'll never dare
To raise their eyes.

OENONE

Doubt not I pity both;

Never was fear more just than yours. Why, then,

Expose them to this ignominy? Why

Will you accuse yourself? You thus destroy

The only hope that's left; it will be said

That Phaedra, conscious of her perfidy,

Fled from her husband's sight. Hippolytus

Will be rejoiced that, dying, you should lend

His charge support. What can I answer him?

He'll find it easy to confute my tale,

And I shall hear him with an air of triumph

To every open ear repeat your shame.

Sooner than that may fire from

heav'n consume me!
Deceive me not. Say, do you love him still?

79
 How look you now on this contemptuous prince?

PHAEDRA

As on a monster frightful to mine eyes.

OENONE

Why yield him, then, an easy victory?

You fear him? Venture to accuse him first,

As guilty of the charge which he may bring

This day against you. Who can say 'tis false?

All tells against him: in your hands his sword

Happily left behind, your present trouble,

Your past distress, your warnings to his father,

His exile which your earnest

pray'rs obtain'd.

PHAEDRA

What! Would you have me slander innocence?

OENONE

80
 My zeal has need of naught from you but silence.

Like you I tremble, and am loath to do it;

More willingly I'd face a thousand deaths,

But since without this bitter remedy

I lose you, and to me your life outweighs

All else, I'll speak. Theseus,

howe'er enraged
Will do no worse than banish him again.

A father, when he punishes, remains

A father, and his ire is satisfied

With a light sentence. But if guiltless blood

Should flow, is not your

honour of more moment?
A treasure far too precious to be
risk'd?
You must submit, whatever it dictates;

For, when our reputation is at stake,

All must be sacrificed, conscience itself.

But someone comes. 'Tis Theseus.

PHAEDRA

81
And I see

Hippolytus, my ruin plainly written

In his stern eyes. Do what you will; I trust

My fate to you. I cannot help myself.

SCENE IV

THESEUS, HIPPOLYTUS, PHAEDRA, OENONE, THERAMENES

THESEUS

Fortune no longer fights against my wishes,

Madam, and to your arms restores—

PHAEDRA

Stay, Theseus!

Do not profane endearments that were once

So sweet, but which I am unworthy now

To taste. You have been

82
wrong'd. Fortune has proved
Spiteful, nor in your absence spared your wife.

I am unfit to meet your fond caress,

How I may bear my shame my only care

Henceforth.

Scene V

THESEUS, HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

THESEUS

Strange welcome for your father, this!

What does it mean, my son?

HIPPOLYTUS

Phaedra alone

Can solve this mystery. But if my wish

Can move you, let me never see her more;

Suffer Hippolytus to disappear

83
For ever from the home that holds your wife.

THESEUS

You, my son! Leave me?

HIPPOLYTUS

'Twas not I who sought her:

'Twas you who led her footsteps to these shores.

At your departure you thought meet, my lord,

To trust Aricia and the Queen to this

Troezenian land, and I myself was charged

With their protection. But what cares henceforth

Need keep me here? My youth of idleness

Has shown its skill enough o'er paltry foes

That range the woods. May I not quit a life

Of such inglorious ease, and dip my spear

In nobler blood? Ere you had

reach'd my age
More than one tyrant, monster more than one

84
 Had felt the weight of your stout arm. Already,

Successful in attacking insolence,

You had removed all dangers that infested

Our coasts to east and west. The

traveller fear'd
Outrage no longer. Hearing of your deeds,

Already Hercules relied on you,

And rested from his toils. While I, unknown

Son of so brave a sire, am far behind

Even my mother's footsteps. Let my courage

Have scope to act, and if some monster yet

Has 'scaped you, let me lay the glorious spoils

Down at your feet; or let the memory

Of death faced nobly keep my name alive,

And prove to all the world I was your son.

THESEUS

Why, what is this? What terror has

possess'd

85
 My family to make them fly before me?

If I return to find myself so

fear'd,
So little welcome, why did Heav'n release me

From prison? My sole friend, misled by passion,

Was bent on robbing of his wife the tyrant

Who ruled Epirus. With regret I lent

The lover aid, but Fate had made us blind,

Myself as well as him. The tyrant seized me

Defenceless and unarm'd. Pirithous

I saw with tears cast forth to be
devour'd
By savage beasts that
lapp'd the blood of men.
Myself in gloomy caverns he
inclosed,
Deep in the bowels of the earth, and nigh

To Pluto's realms. Six months I lay ere Heav'n

Had pity, and I 'scaped the watchful eyes

That guarded me. Then did I purge the world

Of a foul foe, and he himself has fed

86
 His monsters. But when with expectant joy

To all that is most precious I draw near

Of what the gods have left me, when my soul

Looks for full satisfaction in a sight

So dear, my only welcome is a shudder,

Embrace rejected, and a hasty flight.

Inspiring, as I clearly do, such terror,

Would I were still a prisoner in Epirus!

Phaedra complains that I have

suffer'd outrage.
Who has
betray'd me? Speak. Why was I not
Avenged? Has Greece, to whom mine arm so oft

Brought useful aid,

shelter'd the criminal?
You make no answer. Is my son, mine own

Dear son, confederate with mine enemies?

I'll enter. This suspense is overwhelming.

I'll learn at once the culprit and the crime,

And Phaedra must explain her troubled state.

87
 Scene VI

HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

HIPPOLYTUS

What do these words portend, which

seem'd to freeze
My very blood? Will Phaedra, in her frenzy

Accuse herself, and seal her own destruction?

What will the King say? Gods! What fatal poison

Has love spread over all his house! Myself,

Full of a fire his hatred disapproves,

How changed he finds me from the son he knew!

With dark forebodings in my mind

alarm'd,
But innocence has surely naught to fear.

Come, let us go, and in some other place

Consider how I best may move my sire

88
 To tenderness, and tell him of a flame

Vex'd but not vanquish'd by a father's blame.

89
 ACT IV

Scene I

THESEUS, OENONE

THESEUS

Ah! What is this I hear? Presumptuous traitor!

And would he have disgraced his father's

honour?
With what relentless footsteps Fate pursues me!

Whither I go I know not, nor where know

I am. O kind affection ill repaid!

Audacious scheme! Abominable thought!

To reach the object of his foul desire

The wretch
disdain'd not to use violence.
I know this sword that served him in his fury,

The sword I gave him for a nobler use.

Could not the sacred ties of blood restrain him?

90
 And Phaedra,—was she loath to have him
punish'd?
She held her tongue. Was that to spare the culprit?

OENONE

Nay, but to spare a most unhappy father.

O'erwhelm'd with shame that her eyes should have kindled

So infamous a flame and prompted him

To crime so heinous, Phaedra would have died.

I saw her raise her arm, and ran to save her.

To me alone you owe it that she lives;

And, in my pity both for her and you,

Have I against my will interpreted

Her tears.

THESEUS

The traitor! He might well turn pale.

'Twas fear that made him tremble when he saw me.

I was
astonish'd that he show'd no pleasure;

91
 His frigid greeting
chill'd my tenderness.
But was this guilty passion that devours him

Declared already ere I

banish'd him
From Athens?

OENONE

Sire, remember how the Queen

Urged you. Illicit love caused all her hatred.

THESEUS

And then this fire broke out again at

Troezen?

OENONE

Sire, I have told you all. Too long the Queen

Has been
allow'd to bear her grief alone
Let me now leave you and attend to her.

Scene II

THESEUS, HIPPOLYTUS

92
THESEUS

Ah! There he is. Great gods! That noble mien

Might well deceive an eye less fond than mine!

Why should the sacred stamp of virtue gleam

Upon the forehead of an impious wretch?

Ought not the blackness of a traitor's heart

To show itself by sure and certain signs?

HIPPOLYTUS

My father, may I ask what fatal cloud

Has troubled your majestic countenance?

Dare you not trust this secret to your son?

THESEUS

Traitor, how dare you show yourself before me?

Monster, whom Heaven's bolts have spared too long!

Survivor of that robber crew whereof

93
 I cleansed the earth. After your brutal lust

Scorn'd even to respect my marriage bed,

You venture—you, my hated foe—to come

Into my presence, here, where all is full

Of your foul infamy, instead of seeking

Some unknown land that never heard my name.

Fly, traitor, fly! Stay not to tempt the wrath

That I can scarce restrain, nor brave my hatred.

Disgrace enough have I

incurr'd for ever
In being father of so vile a son,

Without your death staining indelibly

The glorious record of my noble deeds.

Fly, and unless you wish quick punishment

To add you to the criminals cut off

By me, take heed this sun that lights us now

Ne'er sees you more set foot upon this soil.

I tell you once again,—fly, haste, return not,

94
 Rid all my realms of your atrocious presence.

To thee, to thee, great Neptune, I appeal

If erst I
clear'd thy shores of foul assassins
Recall thy promise to reward those efforts,

Crown'd with success, by granting my first pray'r.

Confined for long in close captivity,

I have not yet

call'd on thy pow'rful aid,
Sparing to use the valued privilege

Till at mine utmost need. The time is come

I ask thee now. Avenge a wretched father!

I leave this traitor to thy wrath; in blood

Quench his outrageous fires, and by thy fury

Theseus will estimate thy

favour tow'rds him.

HIPPOLYTUS

Phaedra accuses me of lawless passion!

This crowning horror all my soul confounds;

95
 Such unexpected blows, falling at once,

O'erwhelm me, choke my utterance, strike me dumb.

THESEUS

Traitor, you
reckon'd that in timid silence
Phaedra would bury your brutality.

You should not have

abandon'd in your flight
The sword that in her hands helps to condemn you;

Or rather, to complete your perfidy,

You should have

robb'd her both of speech and life.

HIPPOLYTUS

Justly indignant at a lie so black

I might be
pardon'd if I told the truth;
But it concerns your
honour to conceal it.
Approve the reverence that shuts my mouth;

And, without wishing to increase your woes,

Examine closely what my life has been.

96
 Great crimes are never single, they are
link'd
To former faults. He who has once
transgress'd
May violate at last all that men hold

Most sacred; vice, like virtue, has degrees

Of progress; innocence was never seen

To sink at once into the lowest depths

Of guilt. No virtuous man can in a day

Turn traitor, murderer, an incestuous wretch.

The nursling of a chaste, heroic mother,

I have not proved unworthy of my birth.

Pittheus, whose wisdom is by all esteem'd,

Deign'd to instruct me when I left her hands.

It is no wish of mine to vaunt my merits,

But, if I may lay claim to any virtue,

I think beyond all else I have

display'd
Abhorrence of those sins with which I'm charged.

For this Hippolytus is known in Greece,

97
 So continent that he is
deem'd austere.
All know my abstinence inflexible:

The daylight is not purer than my heart.

How, then, could I, burning with fire profane—

THESEUS

Yes, dastard, 'tis that very pride condemns you.

I see the odious reason of your coldness

Phaedra alone
bewitch'd your shameless eyes;
Your soul, to others' charms indifferent,

Disdain'd the blameless fires of lawful love.

HIPPOLYTUS

No, father, I have hidden it too long,

This heart has not

disdain'd a sacred flame.
Here at your feet I own my real offence:

I love, and love in truth where you forbid me;

Bound to Aricia by my heart's devotion,

98
 The child of Pallas has subdued your son.

A rebel to your laws, her I adore,

And breathe forth ardent sighs for her alone.

THESEUS

You love her?

Heav'ns!
But no, I see the trick.

You feign a crime to justify yourself.

HIPPOLYTUS

Sir, I have
shunn'd her for six months, and still
Love her. To you yourself I came to tell it,

Trembling the while. Can nothing clear your mind

Of your mistake? What oath can reassure you?

By
heav'n and earth and all the pow'rs of nature—

THESEUS

The wicked never shrink from perjury.

Cease, cease, and spare me irksome protestations,

99
 If your false virtue has no other aid.

HIPPOLYTUS

Tho' it to you seem false and insincere,

Phaedra has secret cause to know it true.

THESEUS

Ah! how your shamelessness excites my wrath!

HIPPOLYTUS

What is my term and place of banishment?

THESEUS

Were you beyond the Pillars of Alcides,

Your perjured presence were too near me yet.

HIPPOLYTUS

What friends will pity me, when you forsake

And think me guilty of a crime so vile?

100
 THESEUS

Go, look you out for friends who hold in

honour
Adultery and clap their hands at incest,

Low, lawless traitors,

steep'd in infamy,
The fit protectors of a knave like you.

HIPPOLYTUS

Are incest and adultery the words

You cast at me? I hold my tongue. Yet think

What mother Phaedra had; too well you know

Her blood, not mine, is tainted with those horrors.

THESEUS

What! Does your rage before my eyes lose all

Restraint? For the last time,—out of my sight!

Hence, traitor! Wait not till a father's wrath

Force thee away 'mid general execration.

101
 Scene III

THESEUS (alone)

Wretch! Thou must meet inevitable ruin.

Neptune has sworn by Styx—to gods themselves

A dreadful oath,—and he will execute

His promise. Thou canst not escape his vengeance.

I loved thee; and, in spite of thine offence,

My heart is troubled by anticipation

For thee. But thou hast

earn'd thy doom too well.
Had father ever greater cause for rage?

Just gods, who see the grief that overwhelms me,

Why was I cursed with such a wicked son?

SCENE IV

PHAEDRA, THESEUS

102
 PHAEDRA

My lord, I come to you,

fill'd with just dread.
Your voice raised high in anger
reach'd mine ears,
And much I fear that deeds have
follow'd threats.
Oh, if there yet is time, spare your own offspring.

Respect your race and blood, I do beseech you.

Let me not hear that blood cry from the ground;

Save me the horror and perpetual pain

Of having caused his father's hand to shed it.

THESEUS

No, Madam, from that stain my hand is free.

But, for all that, the wretch has not escaped me.

The hand of an Immortal now is charged

With his destruction. 'Tis a debt that Neptune

Owes me, and you shall be avenged.

103
 PHAEDRA

A debt

Owed you?
Pray'rs made in anger—

THESEUS

Never fear

That they will fail. Rather join yours to mine

In all their blackness paint for me his crimes,

And fan my tardy passion to white heat.

But yet you know not all his infamy;

His rage against you overflows in slanders;

Your mouth, he says, is full of all deceit,

He says Aricia has his heart and soul,

That her alone he loves.

PHAEDRA

Aricia?

104
 THESEUS

Aye,

He said it to my face! an idle pretext!

A trick that gulls me not! Let us hope Neptune

Will do him speedy justice. To his altars

I go, to urge performance of his oaths.

SCENE V

PHAEDRA (alone)

Ah, he is gone! What tidings struck mine ears?

What fire, half

smother'd, in my heart revives?
What fatal stroke falls like a thunderbolt?

Stung by remorse that would not let me rest,

I tore myself out of Oenone's arms,

And flew to help Hippolytus with all

My soul and strength. Who knows if that repentance

105
 Might not have moved me to accuse myself?

And, if my voice had not been choked with shame,

Perhaps I had
confess'd the frightful truth.
Hippolytus can feel, but not for me!

Aricia has his heart, his plighted troth.

Ye gods, when, deaf to all my sighs and tears,

He
arm'd his eye with scorn, his brow with threats,
I
deem'd his heart, impregnable to love,
Was fortified '
gainst all my sex alike.
And yet another has
prevail'd to tame
His pride, another has secured his
favour.
Perhaps he has a heart easily melted;

I am the only one he cannot bear!

And shall I charge myself with his

defence?

SCENE VI

PHAEDRA, OENONE

106
 PHAEDRA

Know you, dear Nurse, what I have

learn'd just now?

OENONE

No; but I come in truth with trembling limbs.

I dreaded with what purpose you went forth,

The fear of fatal madness made me pale.

PHAEDRA

Who would have thought it, Nurse? I had a rival.

OENONE

A rival?

PHAEDRA

Yes, he loves. I cannot doubt it.

This wild untamable Hippolytus,

Who

107
scorn'd to be admired, whom lovers' sighs
Wearied, this tiger, whom I
fear'd to rouse,
Fawns on a hand that has subdued his pride:

Aricia has found entrance to his heart.

OENONE

Aricia?

PHAEDRA

Ah! anguish as yet untried!

For what new tortures am I still reserved?

All I have undergone, transports of passion,

Longings and fears, the horrors of remorse,

The shame of being

spurn'd with contumely,
Were feeble foretastes of my present torments.

They love each other! By what secret charm

Have they deceived me? Where, and when, and how

Met they? You knew it all. Why was I

cozen'd?
You never told me of those stolen hours

108
 Of amorous converse. Have they oft been seen

Talking together? Did they seek the shades

Of thickest woods? Alas! full freedom had they

To see each other. Heav'n approved their sighs;

They loved without the consciousness of guilt;

And every morning's sun for them shone clear,

While I, an outcast from the face of Nature,

Shunn'd the bright day, and sought to hide myself.

Death was the only god whose aid I dared

To ask: I waited for the grave's release.

Water'd with tears, nourish'd with gall, my woe

Was all too closely
watch'd; I did not dare
To weep without restraint. In mortal dread

Tasting this dangerous solace, I disguised

My terror 'neath a tranquil countenance,

And oft had I to check my tears, and smile.

109
 OENONE

What fruit will they enjoy of their vain love?

They will not see each other more.

PHAEDRA

That love

Will last
for ever. Even while I speak,
Ah, fatal thought, they laugh to scorn the madness

Of my distracted heart. In spite of exile

That soon must part them, with a thousand oaths

They seal yet closer union. Can I suffer

A happiness, Oenone, which insults me?

I crave your pity. She must be

destroy'd.
My husband's wrath against a hateful stock

Shall be revived, nor must the punishment

Be light: the sister's guilt passes the brothers'.

I will entreat him in my jealous rage.

What am I saying? Have I lost my senses?

110
 Is Phaedra jealous, and will she implore

Theseus for help? My husband lives, and yet

I burn. For whom? Whose heart is this I claim

As mine? At every word I say, my hair

Stands up with horror. Guilt henceforth has

pass'd
All bounds. Hypocrisy and incest breathe

At once thro' all. My murderous hands are ready

To spill the blood of guileless innocence.

Do I yet live, wretch that I am, and dare

To face this holy Sun from whom I spring?

My father's sire was king of all the gods;

My ancestors fill all the universe.

Where can I hide? In the dark realms of Pluto?

But there my father holds the fatal urn;

His hand awards

th' irrevocable doom:
Minos is judge of all the ghosts in hell.

Ah! how his awful shade will start and shudder

111
 When he shall see his daughter brought before him,

Forced to confess sins of such varied dye,

Crimes it may be unknown to hell itself!

What wilt thou say, my father, at a sight

So dire? I think I see thee drop the urn,

And, seeking some unheard-of punishment,

Thyself become my executioner.

Spare me! A cruel goddess has

destroy'd
Thy race; and in my madness recognize

Her wrath. Alas! My aching heart has

reap'd
No fruit of pleasure from the frightful crime

The shame of which pursues me to the grave,

And ends in torment life-long misery.

OENONE

Ah, Madam, pray dismiss a groundless dread:

Look less severely on a venial error.

112
 You love. We cannot conquer destiny.

You were drawn on as by a fatal charm.

Is that a marvel without precedent

Among us? Has love

triumph'd over you,
And o'er none else? Weakness is natural

To man. A mortal, to a mortal's lot

Submit. You chafe against a yoke that others

Have long since borne. The dwellers in Olympus,

The gods themselves, who terrify with threats

The sins of men, have

burn'd with lawless fires.

PHAEDRA

What words are these I hear? What counsel this

You dare to give me? Will you to the end

Pour poison in mine ears? You have

destroy'd me.
You brought me back when I should else have quitted

The light of day, made me forget my duty

And see Hippolytus, till then avoided.

113
 What hast thou done? Why did your wicked mouth

With blackest lies slander his blameless life?

Perhaps you've slain him, and the impious

pray'r
Of an unfeeling father has been
answer'd.
No, not another word! Go, hateful monster;

Away, and leave me to my piteous fate.

May Heav'n with justice pay you your deserts!

And may your punishment for ever be

A terror to all those who would, like you,

Nourish with artful wiles the weaknesses

Of princes, push them to the brink of ruin

To which their heart inclines, and smooth the path

Of guilt. Such flatterers doth the wrath of Heav'n

Bestow on kings as its most fatal gift.

OENONE (alone)

O gods! to serve her what have I not done?

114
This is the due reward that I have won.

115
 ACT V

SCENE I

HIPPOLYTUS, ARICIA

ARICIA

Can you keep silent in this mortal peril?

Your father loves you. Will you leave him thus

Deceived? If in your cruel heart you scorn

My tears, content to see me nevermore,

Go, part from poor Aricia; but at least,

Going, secure the safety of your life.

Defend your honor from a shameful stain,

And force your father to recall his

pray'rs.
There yet is time. Why out of mere caprice

Leave the field free to Phaedra's calumnies?

Let Theseus know the truth.

116
 HIPPOLYTUS

Could I say more,

Without exposing him to dire disgrace?

How should I venture, by revealing all,

To make a father's brow grow red with shame?

The odious mystery to you alone

Is known. My heart has been

outpour'd to none
Save you and Heav'n. I could not hide from you

(Judge if I love you), all I fain would hide

E'en from myself. But think under what seal

I spoke. Forget my words, if that may be;

And never let so pure a mouth disclose

This dreadful secret. Let us trust to Heav'n

My vindication, for the gods are just;

For their own

honour will they clear the guiltless;
Sooner or later
punish'd for her crime,
Phaedra will not escape the shame she merits.

117
 I ask no other
favour than your silence;
In all besides I give my wrath free scope.

Make your escape from this captivity,

Be bold to bear me company in flight;

Linger not here on this accursed soil,

Where virtue breathes a pestilential air.

To cover your departure take advantage

Of this confusion, caused by my disgrace.

The means of flight are ready, be assured;

You have as yet no other guards than mine.

Pow'rful defenders will maintain our quarrel;

Argos spreads open arms, and Sparta calls us.

Let us appeal for justice to our friends,

Nor suffer Phaedra, in a common ruin

Joining us both, to hunt us from the throne,

And
aggrandise her son by robbing us.
Embrace this happy opportunity:

118
 What fear restrains? You seem to hesitate.

Your interest alone prompts me to urge

Boldness. When I am all on fire, how comes it

That you are ice? Fear you to follow then

A
banish'd man?

ARICIA

Ah, dear to me would be

Such exile! With what joy, my fate to yours

United, could I live, by all the world

Forgotten! but not yet has that sweet tie

Bound us together. How then can I steal

Away with you? I know the strictest

honour
Forbids me not out of your father's hands

To free myself; this is no parent's home,

And flight is lawful when one flies from tyrants.

But you, Sir, love me; and my virtue shrinks—

119
 HIPPOLYTUS

No, no, your reputation is to me

As dear as to yourself. A nobler purpose

Brings me to you. Fly from your foes, and follow

A husband. Heav'n, that sends us these misfortunes,

Sets free from human instruments the pledge

Between us. Torches do not always light

The face of Hymen.

At the gates of
Troezen,
'Mid ancient tombs where princes of my race

Lie buried, stands a temple, ne'er

approach'd
By perjurers, where mortals dare not make

False oaths, for instant punishment befalls

The guilty. Falsehood knows no stronger check

Than what is present there—the fear of death

That cannot be avoided. Thither then

We'll go, if you consent, and swear to love

120
 For ever, take the guardian god to witness

Our solemn vows, and his paternal care

Entreat. I will invoke the name of all

The holiest
Pow'rs; chaste Dian, and the Queen
Of Heav'n, yea all the gods who know my heart

Will guarantee my sacred promises.

ARICIA

The King draws near. Depart,—make no delay.

To mask my flight, I linger yet one moment.

Go you; and leave with me some trusty guide,

To lead my timid footsteps to your side.

SCENE II

THESEUS, ARICIA, ISMENE

THESEUS

121
 Ye gods, throw light upon my troubled mind,

Show me the truth which I am seeking here.

ARICIA (aside to ISMENE)

Get ready, dear Ismene, for our flight.

SCENE III

THESEUS, ARICIA

THESEUS

Your
colour comes and goes, you seem confused,
Madame! What business had my son with you?

ARICIA

Sire, he was bidding me farewell

for ever.

THESEUS

Your eyes, it seems, can tame that stubborn pride;

122
And the first sighs he breathes are paid to you.

ARICIA

I can't deny the truth; he has not, Sire,

Inherited your hatred and injustice;

He did not treat me like a criminal.

THESEUS

That is to say, he swore eternal love.

Do not rely on that inconstant heart;

To others has he sworn as much before.

ARICIA

He, Sire?

THESEUS

You ought to check his roving taste.

How could you bear a partnership so vile?

123
 ARICIA

And how can you endure that vilest slanders

Should make a life so pure as black as pitch?

Have you so little knowledge of his heart?

Do you so ill distinguish between guilt

And innocence? What mist before your eyes

Blinds them to virtue so conspicuous?

Ah! 'tis too much to let false tongues defame him.

Repent; call back your murderous wishes, Sire;

Fear, fear lest Heav'n in its severity

Hate you enough to hear and grant your

pray'rs.
Oft in their wrath the gods accept our victims,

And oftentimes chastise us with their gifts.

THESEUS

No, vainly would you cover up his guilt.

Your love is blind to his depravity.

But I have witness irreproachable:

124
 Tears have I seen, true tears, that may be trusted.

ARICIA

Take heed, my lord. Your hands invincible

Have rid the world of monsters numberless;

But all are not

destroy'd, one you have left
Alive—Your son forbids me to say more.

Knowing with what respect he still regards you,

I should too much distress him if I dared

Complete my sentence. I will imitate

His reverence, and, to keep silence, leave you.

SCENE IV

THESEUS (alone)

What is there in her mind? What meaning lurks

In speech begun but to be broken short?

125
 Would both deceive me with a vain
pretence?
Have they conspired to put me to the torture?

And yet, despite my stern severity,

What plaintive voice cries deep within my heart?

A secret pity troubles and alarms me.

Oenone shall be questioned once again,

I must have clearer light upon this crime.

Guards, bid Oenone come, and come alone.

SCENE V

THESEUS, PANOPE

PANOPE

I know not what the Queen intends to do,

But from her agitation dread the worst.

Fatal despair is painted on her features;

126
 Death's pallor is already in her face.

Oenone, shamed and driven from her sight,

Has cast herself into the ocean depths.

None knows what prompted her to deed so rash;

And now the waves hide her from us

for ever.

THESEUS

What say you?

PANOPE

Her sad fate seems to have added

Fresh trouble to the Queen's tempestuous soul.

Sometimes, to soothe her secret pain, she clasps

Her children close, and bathes them with her tears;

Then suddenly, the mother's love forgotten,

She thrusts them from her with a look of horror,

She wanders to and

fro with doubtful steps;
Her vacant eye no longer knows us. Thrice

127
 She wrote, and thrice did she, changing her mind,

Destroy the letter ere 'twas well begun.

Vouchsafe to see her, Sire: vouchsafe to help her.

THESEUS

Heav'ns! Is Oenone dead, and Phaedra bent

On dying too? Oh, call me back my son!

Let him defend himself, and I am ready

To hear him. Be not hasty to bestow

Thy fatal bounty, Neptune; let my

pray'rs
Rather remain ever unheard. Too soon

I lifted cruel hands, believing lips

That may have lied! Ah! What despair may follow!

SCENE VI

THESEUS, THERAMENES

128
 THESEUS

Theramenes, is't thou? Where is my son?

I gave him to thy charge from tenderest childhood.

But whence these tears that overflow thine eyes?

How is it with my son?

THERAMENES

Concern too late!

Affection vain! Hippolytus is dead.

THESEUS

Gods!

THERAMENES

I have seen the

flow'r of all mankind
Cut off, and I am bold to say that none

Deserved it less.

THESEUS

129
 What! My son dead! When I

Was stretching out my arms to him, has Heav'n

Hasten'd his end? What was this sudden stroke?

THERAMENES

Scarce had we
pass'd out of the gates of Troezen,
He silent in his chariot, and his guards

Downcast and silent too, around him ranged;

To the
Mycenian road he turn'd his steeds,
Then, lost in thought,
allow'd the reins to lie
Loose on their backs. His noble chargers, erst

So full of
ardour to obey his voice,
With head
depress'd and melancholy eye

Seem'd now to mark his sadness and to share it.

A frightful cry, that issues from the deep,

With sudden discord rends the troubled air;

And from the bosom of the earth a groan

130
 Is heard in answer to that voice of terror.

Our blood is frozen at our very hearts;

With bristling manes the

list'ning steeds stand still.
Meanwhile upon the watery plain there rises

A mountain billow with a mighty crest

Of foam, that shoreward rolls, and, as it breaks

Before our eyes vomits a furious monster.

With formidable horns its brow is

arm'd,
And all its body clothed with yellow scales,

In front a savage bull, behind a dragon

Turning and twisting in impatient rage.

Its long continued

bellowings make the shore
Tremble; the sky seems horror-struck to see it;

The earth with terror quakes; its poisonous breath

Infects the air. The wave that brought it ebbs

In fear. All fly, forgetful of the courage

That cannot aid, and in a

neighbouring temple

131
Take refuge—all save bold Hippolytus.

A hero's worthy son, he stays his steeds,

Seizes his darts, and, rushing forward, hurls

A missile with sure aim that wounds the monster

Deep in the flank. With rage and pain it springs

E'en to the horses' feet, and, roaring, falls,

Writhes in the dust, and shows a fiery throat

That covers them with flames, and blood, and smoke.

Fear lends them wings; deaf to his voice for once,

And heedless of the curb, they onward fly.

Their master wastes his strength in efforts vain;

With foam and blood each courser's bit is red.

Some say a god, amid this wild disorder,

Was seen with goads pricking their dusty flanks.

O'er jagged rocks they rush urged on by terror;

Crash! goes the axle-tree. Th' intrepid youth

Sees his car broken up, flying to pieces;

132
 He falls himself entangled in the reins.

Pardon my grief. That cruel spectacle

Will be for me a source of endless tears.

I saw thy hapless son, I saw him, Sire,

Drag'd by the horses that his hands had fed,

Pow'rless to check their fierce career, his voice

But adding to their fright, his body soon

One mass of wounds. Our cries of anguish fill

The plain. At last they slacken their swift pace,

Then stop, not far from those old tombs that mark

Where lie the ashes of his royal sires.

Panting I thither run, and after me

His guard, along the track

stain'd with fresh blood
That reddens all the rocks; caught in the briers

Locks of his hair hang dripping, gory spoils!

I come, I call him. Stretching forth his hand,

He opens his dying eyes, soon closed again.

133
 "The gods have
robb'd me of a guiltless life,"
I hear him say: "Take care of sad Aricia

When I am dead. Dear friend, if e'er my father

Mourn, undeceived, his son's unhappy fate

Falsely accused; to give my spirit peace,

Tell him to treat his captive tenderly,

And to restore—" With that the hero's breath

Fails, and a mangled corpse lies in my arms,

A piteous object, trophy of the wrath

Of Heav'n—so changed, his father would not know him.

THESEUS

Alas, my son! Dear hope for ever lost!

The ruthless gods have served me but too well.

For what a life of anguish and remorse

Am I reserved!

THERAMENES

134
 Aricia at that instant,

Flying from you, comes timidly, to take him

For husband, there, in presence of the gods.

Thus drawing nigh, she sees the grass all red

And reeking, sees (sad sight for lover's eye!)

Hippolytus
stretch'd there, pale and disfigured.
But, for a time doubtful of her misfortune,

Unrecognized the hero she adores,

She looks, and asks—"Where is Hippolytus?"

Only too sure at last that he lies there

Before her, with sad eyes that silently

Reproach the gods, she shudders, groans, and falls

Swooning and all but lifeless, at his feet.

Ismene, all in tears, kneels down beside her,

And calls her back to life—life that is naught

But sense of pain. And I, to whom this light

Is darkness now, come to discharge the duty

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 The hero has imposed on me, to tell thee

His last request—a melancholy task.

But hither comes his mortal enemy.

SCENE VII

THESEUS, PHAEDRA, THERAMENES, PANOPE, GUARDS

THESEUS

Madame, you've
triumph'd, and my son is kill'd!
Ah, but what room have I for fear! How justly

Suspicion racks me that in blaming him

I
err'd! But he is dead; accept your victim;
Rightly or wrongly slain, let your heart leap

For joy. My eyes shall be

for ever blind:
Since you accuse him, I'll believe him guilty.

His death affords me cause enough for tears,

Without a foolish search for further light

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 Which,
pow'rless to restore him to my grief,
Might only serve to make me more unhappy,

Far from this shore and far from you I'll fly,

For here the image of my mangled son

Would haunt my memory and drive me mad.

From the whole world I fain would banish me,

For all the world seems to rise up in judgment

Against me; and my very glory weights

My punishment; for, were my name less known

'Twere easier to hide me. All the favours

The gods have granted me I mourn and hate,

Nor will I importune them with vain

pray'rs
Henceforth
for ever. Give me what they may,
What they have taken will all else outweigh.

PHAEDRA

Theseus, I cannot hear you and keep silence:

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 I must repair the wrong that he has
suffer'd—
Your son was innocent.

THESEUS

Unhappy father!

And it was on your word that I

condemn'd him!
Think you such cruelty can be excused—

PHAEDRA

Moments to me are precious; hear me, Theseus.

'Twas I who cast an eye of lawless passion

On chaste and dutiful Hippolytus.

Heav'n in my bosom kindled baleful fire,

And vile Oenone's cunning did the rest.

She
fear'd Hippolytus, knowing my madness,
Would make that passion known which he regarded

With horror; so advantage of my weakness

She took, and

hasten'd to accuse him first.

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 For that she has been
punish'd, tho' too mildly;
Seeking to shun my wrath she cast herself

Beneath the waves. The sword ere now had cut

My thread of life, but

slander'd innocence
Made its cry heard, and I resolved to die

In a more lingering way, confessing first

My penitence to you. A poison, brought

To Athens by Medea, runs

thro' my veins.
Already in my heart the venom works,

Infusing there a strange and fatal chill;

Already as thro' thickening mists I see

The spouse to whom my presence is an outrage;

Death, from mine eyes veiling the light of

heav'n,
Restores its purity that they defiled.

PANOPE

She dies my lord!

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 THESEUS

Would that the memory

Of her disgraceful deed could perish with her!

Ah, disabused too late! Come, let us go,

And with the blood of mine unhappy son

Mingle our tears, clasping his dear remains,

In deep repentance for a

pray'r detested.
Let him be
honour'd as he well deserves;
And, to appease his sore offended ghost,

Be her near kinsmen's guilt whate'er it may,

Aricia shall be held my daughter from to-day.

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