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?

          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?

          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

          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,

          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

          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;

          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 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

          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 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 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, 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?

          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

          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

          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 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

          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

          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

          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

          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.

          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

          To tenderness, and tell him of a flame

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