Hippolytus or Phaedra: Act III

Theseus: At last have I escaped from endless night,That shadowy realm which close confines the dead.And now my eyes can scarce endure the lightWhich I have long desired. Eleusin nowHas four times reaped her ripened grain, the giftTriptolemus bestowed; thrice and againHas Libra measured equal day and night,Since dubious battling with an unknown fateHas held me in the toils of life and death.To me, though dead to all things else, one partOf life remained, the consciousness of ill.Alcides was the end. When he came downTo bring the dog by force from Tartarus,He brought me also to the upper world.But ah, my wearied frame has lost the strengthIt had of old; I walk with faltering steps.Alas! how great a task it was to reachThe world of light from lower Phlegethon,To flee from death and follow Hercules!But why this sound of wailing in my ears?Let someone tell; for agonies of woeAnd grief and lamentations sad I meetUpon the very threshold of my home--A fitting welcome to a guest from hell.

Nurse: The queen is obstinately bent on death,And scorns the strong remonstrance of our tears.Theseus: Why should she die, her husband safe returned?

Nurse: That very cause compels her speedy death.

Theseus: Thy words are dark and hide some weighty truth.Speak out and tell what grief weighs down her soul.

Nurse: She tells her grief to none. Some secret woeShe hides within her heart, and is resolvedTo take her secret with her to the grave.But speed thee to her; there is need of haste.

Theseus: Unbar the close-shut portals of my house.

Theseus [to Phaedra]: My queen, is't thus thou dost receive thylord,And welcome back thy husband long desired?Nay, put away the sword from thy right hand,And give me heart again. Reveal to meThe cause that forces thee to flee from life.

Phaedra: Alas, great Theseus, by thy kingly power,And by thy children's souls, by thy return,And by my ashes, suffer me to die.Theseus: What cause compels thy death?

Phaedra: The fruit of deathWould perish if I let its cause be known.Theseus: None else shall hear it save myself alone.

Phaedra: A chaste wife fears her husband most of all.

Theseus: Speak out; I'll hide thy secret in my heart.

Phaedra: The secret thou wouldst have another guard,First guard thyself.

Theseus: No chance of death thou'lt find.

Phaedra: Death cannot fail the heart that's bent on death.

Theseus: Confess what sin must be atoned by death.

Phaedra: That death is best which one's own friends lament.

Theseus: She still persists in silence. By the lashAnd chains shall her old nurse be forced to tellWhat she will not declare. Put her in chains.Now let the lash lay bare her hidden thoughts.

Phaedra: Hold, stay thy hand, for I myself will speak.

Theseus: Why dost thou turn thy grieving face away,And hide the quickly rising shower of tearsBehind thy robe?

Phaedra: Thee, thee do I invoke,O father of the gods, and thee, O Sun,Thou shining glory of the heavenly dome,On whom as founder doth our house depend,I call ye both to witness that I stroveAgainst his prayers, though sorely tried. To threatsOf death my spirit did not yield; but forceO'ercame my body. This the shameful stainUpon my honor which my blood must cleanse.

Theseus: Come, tell, who hath defiled our honor so?

Phaedra: Whom thou wouldst least expect.

Theseus: But who is he?I wait to hear his name.

Phaedra: This sword shall tell,Which in his terror at our loud laments,The adulterer left, fearing the citizens.

Theseus: Ah me! What villainy do I behold?What monstrous deed is this? The royal sword,Its ivory hilt with tiny signs engraved,Shines out, the glory of the Athenian race.But he--where has he gone?

Phaedra: These slaves have seenHow, borne on speeding feet, he fled away.

Theseus: Oh, holy piety! O thou who reign'stIn heaven, and thou who rulest in the seas,Whence came this base infection of our race?Was he of Grecian birth, or did he springFrom Scythian Taurus or some Colchian stream?The type reverts to its ancestral stock,And blood ignoble but repeats its source.This is the madness of that savage race,To scorn all lawful love, and prostituteAt last the long-chaste body to the crowd.Oh, loathsome race, restrained by no good lawsWhich milder climes revere! The very beastsShun love incestuous, and keep the lawsOf nature with instinctive chastity.Where is that face, that feigned austerity,That rough and careless garb that sought to apeThe ancient customs? Where that aspect stern,That sour severity which age assumes?O life, two-faced! How thou dost hide thy thoughts!For fairest faces cover foulest hearts;The chaste demeanor hides inchastity;The gentle, boldness; seeming goodness, sin.False men approve the truth; the faint of heartAffect a blustering mood. O thou, of woodsEnamored, savage, rough and virgin pure,Didst thou reserve thyself for me alone?On my couch first and with so fell a crimeWast thou inclined to try thy manly powers?Now, now I thank the kindly gods of heavenThat long ago I slew Antiope;That, when I went below to Stygian caves,I did not leave thy mother for thy lust.Go, get thee far away to unknown lands;And there, though to her utmost bounds removed,The earth should hem thee off by ocean's wastes;Though thou shouldst dwell at the Antipodes;Though to the frigid northern realms thou go,And deep within her farthest caverns hide;Or, though beyond the reach of winter placed,And drifting snows, thou leave the boisterous threatsOf frosty Boreas in mad pursuit:Thou still shalt meet thy fitting punishment.Persistent shall I chase thee in thy flightThrough all thy hiding-places. Ways remote,Hemmed in, secluded, hard and trackless ways,I'll traverse in pursuit. No obstacleShall block my way. Thou know'st whence I return.And whither spears cannot be hurled at theeI'll hurl my prayers. My father of the seaOnce promised me that thrice I might prevailWith him in prayer, and ratified the boonBy oath upon the inviolable Styx.Thou ruler of the sea, the boon bestow,And grant my prayer: let not HippolytusLive to behold another sun's bright rays,But may he go to meet those shades of hellEnraged at my escape. O father, nowI pray that aid which still I deprecate.This last of thy three boons I would not use,If I were not beset by grievous ills.Amidst the depths of hell and dreadful Dis,Amidst the infernal king's pursuing threats,I did not call on thee. But now I claimThy promise, father. Why delay thine aid?Why are thy waves inactive? Let the windsThat drive the blackening clouds bring darkness on;Snatch stars and sky from sight; pour forth the sea;Arouse thy watery monsters, and let looseOn him from ocean's depths thy swelling waves.

Chorus: Great nature, mother of the gods,And thou, fire-girt Olympus' lord,Who speedest through the flying skiesThe scattered stars, the wandering waysOf constellations, and the heavensUpon their whirling axes turn'st:Why is thy care so great to keepThe annual highways of the air,That now the hoary frosts may stripThe woods of leaves, and now the treesMay spread once more their pleasant shade;That now the summer's fervent heatMay ripen Ceres' gift, and soonHer strength the Autumn may subdue?But why, though thou dost rule so wide,Though in thy hand the ponderous worldsAre poised, and calmly wheel alongTheir appointed ways, why dost thou shunThe affairs of men and have no careFor them? Art not solicitousThat good should prosper, and that sinReceive its just deserts? But no:Blind Fortune rules the affairs of men,Dispensing with unthinking handHer gifts, oft favoring the worst.And so the violent oppressThe innocent; and fraud holds swayIn highest places. To the handsOf brutish men the rabble mostRejoice to trust their government;The same they honor and they hate,With fickle will. Sad virtue findsHer recompense for righteousnessAll gone away; and poverty,Relentless, follows innocence;While, deep intrenched in wickedness,The adulterer sits secure, and reigns.O modesty--an empty name!And worth--a glorious cheat!But what would yonder messenger announce,Who comes in haste, with woeful countenance?