Part 2

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, 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. 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,-- 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

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 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: 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 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 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 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 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

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, 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

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.

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.

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 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 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 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 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.

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 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, 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, 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?

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.

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.

## 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? 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?