SCENE VIPHAEDRA, OENONE
PHAEDRAKnow you, dear Nurse, what I have learn'd just now?OENONENo; but I come in truth with trembling limbs.I dreaded with what purpose you went forth,The fear of fatal madness made me pale.PHAEDRAWho would have thought it, Nurse? I had a rival.OENONEA rival?PHAEDRAYes, he loves. I cannot doubt it.This wild untamable Hippolytus,Who scorn'd to be admired, whom lovers' sighsWearied, this tiger, whom I fear'd to rouse,Fawns on a hand that has subdued his pride:Aricia has found entrance to his heart.OENONEAricia?PHAEDRAAh! 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 charmHave they deceived me? Where, and when, and howMet they? You knew it all. Why was I cozen'd?You never told me of those stolen hoursOf amorous converse. Have they oft been seenTalking together? Did they seek the shadesOf thickest woods? Alas! full freedom had theyTo 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 daredTo ask: I waited for the grave's release.Water'd with tears, nourish'd with gall, my woeWas all too closely watch'd; I did not dareTo weep without restraint. In mortal dreadTasting this dangerous solace, I disguisedMy terror 'neath a tranquil countenance,And oft had I to check my tears, and smile.OENONEWhat fruit will they enjoy of their vain love?They will not see each other more.PHAEDRAThat loveWill last for ever. Even while I speak,Ah, fatal thought, they laugh to scorn the madnessOf my distracted heart. In spite of exileThat soon must part them, with a thousand oathsThey seal yet closer union. Can I sufferA happiness, Oenone, which insults me?I crave your pity. She must be destroy'd.My husband's wrath against a hateful stockShall be revived, nor must the punishmentBe 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?Is Phaedra jealous, and will she imploreTheseus for help? My husband lives, and yetI burn. For whom? Whose heart is this I claimAs mine? At every word I say, my hairStands up with horror. Guilt henceforth has pass'dAll bounds. Hypocrisy and incest breatheAt once thro' all. My murderous hands are readyTo spill the blood of guileless innocence.Do I yet live, wretch that I am, and dareTo 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 shudderWhen 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 sightSo 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'dThy race; and in my madness recognizeHer wrath. Alas! My aching heart has reap'dNo fruit of pleasure from the frightful crimeThe shame of which pursues me to the grave,And ends in torment life-long misery.OENONEAh, Madam, pray dismiss a groundless dread:Look less severely on a venial error.You love. We cannot conquer destiny.You were drawn on as by a fatal charm.Is that a marvel without precedentAmong us? Has love triumph'd over you,And o'er none else? Weakness is naturalTo man. A mortal, to a mortal's lotSubmit. You chafe against a yoke that othersHave long since borne. The dwellers in Olympus,The gods themselves, who terrify with threatsThe sins of men, have burn'd with lawless fires.PHAEDRAWhat words are these I hear? What counsel thisYou dare to give me? Will you to the endPour poison in mine ears? You have destroy'd me.You brought me back when I should else have quittedThe light of day, made me forget my dutyAnd see Hippolytus, till then avoided.What hast thou done? Why did your wicked mouthWith blackest lies slander his blameless life?Perhaps you've slain him, and the impious pray'rOf 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 beA terror to all those who would, like you,Nourish with artful wiles the weaknessesOf princes, push them to the brink of ruinTo which their heart inclines, and smooth the pathOf guilt. Such flatterers doth the wrath of Heav'nBestow on kings as its most fatal gift.OENONE (alone)O gods! to serve her what have I not done?This is the due reward that I have won.
SCENE IHIPPOLYTUS, ARICIA
ARICIACan you keep silent in this mortal peril?Your father loves you. Will you leave him thusDeceived? If in your cruel heart you scornMy 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 capriceLeave the field free to Phaedra's calumnies?Let Theseus know the truth.HIPPOLYTUSCould 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 aloneIs known. My heart has been outpour'd to noneSave you and Heav'n. I could not hide from you(Judge if I love you), all I fain would hideE'en from myself. But think under what sealI spoke. Forget my words, if that may be;And never let so pure a mouth discloseThis dreadful secret. Let us trust to Heav'nMy 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.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 advantageOf 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 ruinJoining us both, to hunt us from the throne,And aggrandise her son by robbing us.Embrace this happy opportunity:What fear restrains? You seem to hesitate.Your interest alone prompts me to urgeBoldness. When I am all on fire, how comes itThat you are ice? Fear you to follow thenA banish'd man?ARICIAAh, dear to me would beSuch exile! With what joy, my fate to yoursUnited, could I live, by all the worldForgotten! but not yet has that sweet tieBound us together. How then can I stealAway with you? I know the strictest honourForbids me not out of your father's handsTo 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—HIPPOLYTUSNo, no, your reputation is to meAs dear as to yourself. A nobler purposeBrings me to you. Fly from your foes, and followA husband. Heav'n, that sends us these misfortunes,Sets free from human instruments the pledgeBetween us. Torches do not always lightThe face of Hymen.At the gates of Troezen,'Mid ancient tombs where princes of my raceLie buried, stands a temple, ne'er approach'dBy perjurers, where mortals dare not makeFalse oaths, for instant punishment befallsThe guilty. Falsehood knows no stronger checkThan what is present there—the fear of deathThat cannot be avoided. Thither thenWe'll go, if you consent, and swear to loveFor ever, take the guardian god to witnessOur solemn vows, and his paternal careEntreat. I will invoke the name of allThe holiest Pow'rs; chaste Dian, and the QueenOf Heav'n, yea all the gods who know my heartWill guarantee my sacred promises.ARICIAThe 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 IITHESEUS, ARICIA, ISMENE
THESEUSYe 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 IIITHESEUS, ARICIA
THESEUSYour colour comes and goes, you seem confused,Madame! What business had my son with you?ARICIASire, he was bidding me farewell for ever.THESEUSYour eyes, it seems, can tame that stubborn pride;And the first sighs he breathes are paid to you.ARICIAI can't deny the truth; he has not, Sire,Inherited your hatred and injustice;He did not treat me like a criminal.THESEUSThat is to say, he swore eternal love.Do not rely on that inconstant heart;To others has he sworn as much before.ARICIAHe, Sire?THESEUSYou ought to check his roving taste.How could you bear a partnership so vile?ARICIAAnd how can you endure that vilest slandersShould make a life so pure as black as pitch?Have you so little knowledge of his heart?Do you so ill distinguish between guiltAnd innocence? What mist before your eyesBlinds 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 severityHate 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.THESEUSNo, vainly would you cover up his guilt.Your love is blind to his depravity.But I have witness irreproachable:Tears have I seen, true tears, that may be trusted.ARICIATake heed, my lord. Your hands invincibleHave rid the world of monsters numberless;But all are not destroy'd, one you have leftAlive—Your son forbids me to say more.Knowing with what respect he still regards you,I should too much distress him if I daredComplete my sentence. I will imitateHis reverence, and, to keep silence, leave you.
SCENE IV
THESEUS (alone)What is there in her mind? What meaning lurksIn speech begun but to be broken short?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 VTHESEUS, PANOPE
PANOPEI know not what the Queen intends to do,But from her agitation dread the worst.Fatal despair is painted on her features;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.THESEUSWhat say you?PANOPEHer sad fate seems to have addedFresh trouble to the Queen's tempestuous soul.Sometimes, to soothe her secret pain, she claspsHer 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. ThriceShe wrote, and thrice did she, changing her mind,Destroy the letter ere 'twas well begun.Vouchsafe to see her, Sire: vouchsafe to help her.THESEUSHeav'ns! Is Oenone dead, and Phaedra bentOn dying too? Oh, call me back my son!Let him defend himself, and I am readyTo hear him. Be not hasty to bestowThy fatal bounty, Neptune; let my pray'rsRather remain ever unheard. Too soonI lifted cruel hands, believing lipsThat may have lied! Ah! What despair may follow!
SCENE VITHESEUS, THERAMENES
THESEUSTheramenes, 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?THERAMENESConcern too late!Affection vain! Hippolytus is dead.THESEUSGods!THERAMENESI have seen the flow'r of all mankindCut off, and I am bold to say that noneDeserved it less.THESEUSWhat! My son dead! When IWas stretching out my arms to him, has Heav'nHasten'd his end? What was this sudden stroke?THERAMENESScarce had we pass'd out of the gates of Troezen,He silent in his chariot, and his guardsDowncast and silent too, around him ranged;To the Mycenian road he turn'd his steeds,Then, lost in thought, allow'd the reins to lieLoose on their backs. His noble chargers, erstSo full of ardour to obey his voice,With head depress'd and melancholy eyeSeem'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 groanIs 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 risesA mountain billow with a mighty crestOf foam, that shoreward rolls, and, as it breaksBefore 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 dragonTurning and twisting in impatient rage.Its long continued bellowings make the shoreTremble; the sky seems horror-struck to see it;The earth with terror quakes; its poisonous breathInfects the air. The wave that brought it ebbsIn fear. All fly, forgetful of the courageThat cannot aid, and in a neighbouring templeTake refuge—all save bold Hippolytus.A hero's worthy son, he stays his steeds,Seizes his darts, and, rushing forward, hurlsA missile with sure aim that wounds the monsterDeep in the flank. With rage and pain it springsE'en to the horses' feet, and, roaring, falls,Writhes in the dust, and shows a fiery throatThat 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 youthSees his car broken up, flying to pieces;He falls himself entangled in the reins.Pardon my grief. That cruel spectacleWill 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 voiceBut adding to their fright, his body soonOne mass of wounds. Our cries of anguish fillThe plain. At last they slacken their swift pace,Then stop, not far from those old tombs that markWhere lie the ashes of his royal sires.Panting I thither run, and after meHis guard, along the track stain'd with fresh bloodThat reddens all the rocks; caught in the briersLocks of his hair hang dripping, gory spoils!I come, I call him. Stretching forth his hand,He opens his dying eyes, soon closed again."The gods have robb'd me of a guiltless life,"I hear him say: "Take care of sad AriciaWhen I am dead. Dear friend, if e'er my fatherMourn, undeceived, his son's unhappy fateFalsely accused; to give my spirit peace,Tell him to treat his captive tenderly,And to restore—" With that the hero's breathFails, and a mangled corpse lies in my arms,A piteous object, trophy of the wrathOf Heav'n—so changed, his father would not know him.THESEUSAlas, my son! Dear hope for ever lost!The ruthless gods have served me but too well.For what a life of anguish and remorseAm I reserved!THERAMENESAricia at that instant,Flying from you, comes timidly, to take himFor husband, there, in presence of the gods.Thus drawing nigh, she sees the grass all redAnd 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 thereBefore her, with sad eyes that silentlyReproach the gods, she shudders, groans, and fallsSwooning and all but lifeless, at his feet.Ismene, all in tears, kneels down beside her,And calls her back to life—life that is naughtBut sense of pain. And I, to whom this lightIs darkness now, come to discharge the dutyThe hero has imposed on me, to tell theeHis last request—a melancholy task.But hither comes his mortal enemy.
SCENE VIITHESEUS, PHAEDRA, THERAMENES, PANOPE, GUARDS
THESEUSMadame, you've triumph'd, and my son is kill'd!Ah, but what room have I for fear! How justlySuspicion racks me that in blaming himI err'd! But he is dead; accept your victim;Rightly or wrongly slain, let your heart leapFor 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 lightWhich, 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 sonWould 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 judgmentAgainst me; and my very glory weightsMy punishment; for, were my name less known'Twere easier to hide me. All the favoursThe gods have granted me I mourn and hate,Nor will I importune them with vain pray'rsHenceforth for ever. Give me what they may,What they have taken will all else outweigh.PHAEDRATheseus, I cannot hear you and keep silence:I must repair the wrong that he has suffer'd—Your son was innocent.THESEUSUnhappy father!And it was on your word that I condemn'd him!Think you such cruelty can be excused—PHAEDRAMoments to me are precious; hear me, Theseus.'Twas I who cast an eye of lawless passionOn 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 regardedWith horror; so advantage of my weaknessShe took, and hasten'd to accuse him first.For that she has been punish'd, tho' too mildly;Seeking to shun my wrath she cast herselfBeneath the waves. The sword ere now had cutMy thread of life, but slander'd innocenceMade its cry heard, and I resolved to dieIn a more lingering way, confessing firstMy penitence to you. A poison, broughtTo 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 seeThe spouse to whom my presence is an outrage;Death, from mine eyes veiling the light of heav'n,Restores its purity that they defiled.PANOPEShe dies my lord!THESEUSWould that the memoryOf her disgraceful deed could perish with her!Ah, disabused too late! Come, let us go,And with the blood of mine unhappy sonMingle 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.