ACT II

[_Enter_ Nurse _from the palace_.]

_Chorus:_ Speak, nurse, the news thou bring'st. How fares the queen? Do her fierce fires of love know any end?

_Nurse:_ I have no hope that such a malady 360 Can be relieved; her maddened passion's flames Will endless burn. A hidden, silent fire Consumes her, and her raging love, though shut Within her heart, is by her face betrayed. Her eyes dart fire; anon, her sunken gaze Avoids the light of day. Her restless soul 365 Can find no pleasure long in anything. Her aimless love allows her limbs no rest. Now, as with dying, tottering steps, she goes, And scarce can hold her nodding head erect; And now lies down to sleep. But, sleepless quite, She spends the night in tears. Now does she bid Me lift her up, and straight to lay her down; 370 To loose her locks, and bind them up again. In restless mood she constantly demands Fresh robes. She has no care for food or health. With failing strength she walks, with aimless feet. 375 Her old-time strength is gone; no longer shines The ruddy glow of health upon her face. Care feeds upon her limbs; her trembling steps Betray her weakness, and the tender grace Of her once blooming beauty is no more. Her eyes, which once with Phoebus' brilliance shone, No longer gleam with their ancestral fires. 380 Her tears flow ever, and her cheeks are wet With constant rain; as when, on Taurus' top, The snows are melted by a warming shower. But look, the palace doors are opening, And she, reclining on her couch of gold, 385 And sick of soul, refuses one by one The customary garments of her state.

_Phaedra:_ Remove, ye slaves, those bright and gold-wrought robes; Away with Tyrian purple, and the webs Of silk whose threads the far-off eastern tribes From leaves of trees collect. Gird high my robes; 390 I'll wear no necklace, nor shall snowy pearls, The gift of Indian seas, weigh down my ears. No nard from far Assyria shall scent My locks; thus loosely tossing let them fall Around my neck and shoulders; let them stream Upon the wind, by my swift running stirred. 395 Upon my left I'll wear a quiver girt, And in my right hand will I brandish free A hunting-spear of Thessaly; for thus The mother of Hippolytus was clad. So did she lead her hosts from the frozen shores Of Pontus, when to Attica she came, 400 From distant Tanaïs or Maeotis' banks, Her comely locks down flowing from a knot, Her side protected by a crescent shield. Like her would I betake me to the woods.

_Chorus:_ Cease thy laments, for grief will not avail The wretched. Rather seek to appease the will 405 Of that wild virgin goddess of the woods.

_Nurse_ [_to_ Diana]: O queen of forests, thou who dwell'st alone On mountain tops, and thou who only art Within their desert haunts adored, convert, We pray, to better issue these sad fears. O mighty goddess of the woods and groves, Bright star of heaven, thou glory of the night, 410 Whose torch, alternate with the sun, illumes The sky, thou three-formed Hecate--Oh, smile, We pray, on these our hopes; the unbending soul Of stern Hippolytus subdue for us. Teach him to love; our passion's mutual flame May he endure. May he give ready ear To our request. His hard and stubborn heart 415 Do thou make soft to us. Enthral his mind. Though stern of soul, averse to love, and fierce, May he yet yield himself to Venus' laws. Bend all thy powers to this. So may thy face Be ever clear, and through the rifted clouds Mayst thou sail on with crescent shining bright; So, when thou driv'st thy chariot through the sky, 420 May no Thessalian mummeries prevail To draw thee from thy nightly journey down; And may no shepherd boast himself of thee. Lo, thou art here in answer to our prayer; [Hippolytus _is seen approaching_.] I see Hippolytus himself, alone, Approaching to perform the yearly rites To Dian due. 425 [_To herself._] Why dost thou hesitate? Both time and place are given by fortune's lot. Use all thy arts. Why do I quake with fear? It is no easy task to do the deed Enjoined on me. Yet she, who serves a queen, Must banish from her heart all thought of right; For sense of shame ill serves a royal will. 430

[_Enter_ Hippolytus.]

_Hippolytus:_ Why dost thou hither turn thine agéd feet, O faithful nurse? Why is thy face so sad, Thy brow so troubled? Truly is my sire In safety, Phaedra safe, and their two sons.

_Nurse:_ Thou need'st not fear for them; the kingdom stands 435 In prosperous estate, and all thy house Rejoices in the blessings of the gods. But Oh, do thou with greater kindness look Upon thy fortune. For my heart is vexed And anxious for thy sake; for thou thyself With grievous sufferings dost bruise thy soul. If fate compels it, one may be forgiven 440 For wretchedness; but if, of his own will, A man prefers to live in misery, Brings tortures on himself, then he deserves To lose those gifts he knows not how to use. Be mindful of thy youth; relax thy mind. Lift high the blazing torch on festal nights; Let Bacchus free thee from thy weighty cares; 445 Enjoy this time which speeds so swiftly by. Now is the time when love comes easily, And smiles on youth. Come, let thy soul rejoice. Why dost thou lie upon a lonely couch? Dissolve in pleasures that grim mood of thine, And snatch the passing joys;[20] let loose the reins. 450 Forbid that these, the best days of thy life, Should vanish unenjoyed. Its proper hue Has God allotted to each time of life, And leads from step to step the age of man. So joy becomes the young, a face severe The agéd. Why dost thou restrain thyself, And strangle at their birth the joys of life? That crop rewards the farmer's labor most 455 Which in the young and tender sprouting-time Runs riot in the fields. With lofty top That tree will overspread the neighboring grove, Which no begrudging hand cuts back or prunes. So do our inborn powers a richer fruit Of praise and glory bear, if liberty, Unchecked and boundless, feed the noble soul. 460 Thou, harsh, uncouth, and ignorant of life, Dost spend thy youth to joy and love unknown. Think'st thou that this is man's allotted task, To suffer hardships, curb the rushing steeds, And fight like savage beasts in bloody war? 465 When he beheld the boundless greed of death, The mighty father of the world ordained A means by which the race might be renewed. Suppose the power of Venus over men Should cease, who doth supply and still renew 470 The stream of life, then would this lovely world Become a foul, unsightly thing indeed: The sea would bear no fish within its waves, The woods no beasts of prey, the air no birds; But through its empty space the winds alone Would rove. How various the forms of death 475 That seize and feed upon our mortal race: The wrecking sea, the sword, and treachery! But say that these are lacking: still we fall Of our own gravity to gloomy Styx. Suppose our youth should choose a mateless life, And live in childless state: then all this world Of teeming life which thou dost see, would live This generation only, and would fall 480 In ruins on itself. Then spend thy life As nature doth direct; frequent the town, And live in friendly union with thy kind.

_Hippolytus:_ There is no life so free, so innocent, Which better cherishes the ancient rites, Than that which spurns the crowded ways of men And seeks the silent places of the woods. 485 His soul no maddening greed of gain inflames Who on the lofty levels of the hills His blameless pleasures finds. No fickle breath Of passing favor frets him here, no sting Of base ingratitude, no poisonous hate. He fears no kingdom's laws; nor, in the quest 490 Of power, does he pursue the phantom shapes Of fame and wealth. From hope and fear alike Is he removed. No black and biting spite With base, malicious tooth preys on him here. He never hears of those base, shameful things That spawn amid the city's teeming throngs. It is not his with guilty heart to quake At every sound; he need not hide his thoughts 495 With guileful words; in pride of sinful wealth He seeks to own no lordly palace propped Upon a thousand pillars, with its beams In flaunting arrogance incased with gold. No streams of blood his pious altars drench; No hecatombs of snowy bullocks stand 500 Foredoomed to death, their foreheads sprinkled o'er With sacred meal; but in the spacious fields, Beneath the sky, in fearless innocence, He wanders lord of all. His only guile, To set the cunning snare for beasts of pray; And, when o'erspent with labors of the chase, He soothes his body in the shining stream Of cool Ilissus. Now swift Alpheus' banks 505 He skirts, and now the lofty forest's deep, Dense places treads, where Lerna, clear and cool, Pours forth her glimmering streams. Here twittering birds make all the woods resound, And through the branches of the ancient beech The leaves are all a-flutter in the breeze. 510 How sweet upon some vagrant river's bank, Or on the verdant turf, to lie at length, And quaff one's fill of deep, delicious sleep, Whether in hurrying floods some copious stream Pours down its waves, or through the vernal flowers Some murmuring brook sings sweetly as it flows. The windfall apples of the wood appease 515 His hunger, while the ripening berries plucked From wayside thickets grant an easy meal. He gladly shuns the luxuries of kings. Let mighty lords from anxious cups of gold Their nectar quaff; for him how sweet to catch With naked hand the water of the spring! 520 More certain slumber soothes him, though his couch Be hard, if free from care he lay him down. With guilty soul he seeks no shameful deeds In nooks remote upon some hidden couch, Nor timorous hides in labyrinthine cell; He courts the open air and light of day, And lives before the conscious eye of heaven. 525 Such was the life, I think, the ancients lived, Those primal men who mingled with the gods. They were not blinded by the love of gold; No sacred stone divided off the fields And lotted each his own in judgment there. Nor yet did vessels rashly plow the seas; 530 But each his native waters knew alone. Then cities were not girt with massive walls, With frequent towers set; no soldier there To savage arms his hands applied, nor burst The close-barred gates with huge and heavy stones From ponderous engines hurled. As yet the earth 535 Endured no master's rule, nor felt the sway Of laboring oxen yoked in common toil; But all the fields, self-fruitful, fed mankind, Who took and asked no more. The woods gave wealth, And shady grottoes natural homes supplied. Unholy greed first broke these peaceful bonds, 540 And headlong wrath, and lust which sets aflame The hearts of men. Then came the cruel thirst For empire; and the weak became the prey Of strong, and might was counted right. At first Men fought with naked fists, but soon they turned 545 Rough clubs and stones to use of arms. Not yet Were cornel spears with slender points of iron, And long, sharp-pointed swords, and crested helms. Such weapons wrath invented. Warlike Mars Produced new arts of strife, and forms of death 550 In countless numbers made. Thence streams of gore Stained every land, and reddened every sea. Then crime, o'erleaping every bound, ran wild; Invaded every home. No hideous deed Was left undone: but brothers by the hand 555 Of brothers fell, parents by children's hands, Husbands by wives', and impious mothers killed Their helpless babes. Stepmothers need no words; The very beasts are kind compared with them. Of all these evils woman was the cause, The leader she. She with her wicked arts Besets the minds of men; and all for her 560 And her vile, lustful ways, unnumbered towns Lie low in smoking heaps; whole nations rush To arms; and kingdoms, utterly o'erthrown, Drag down their ruined peoples in their fall. Though I should name no other, Aegeus' wife Would prove all womankind a curséd race.

_Nurse:_ Why blame all women for the crimes of few? 565

_Hippolytus:_ I hate them all. I dread and shun and curse Them all. Whether from reason, instinct, blind And causeless madness, this I know--I hate. And sooner shall you fire and water wed; Sooner shall dangerous quicksands friendly turn And give safe anchorage; and sooner far 570 Shall Tethys from her utmost western bounds Bring forth the shining day, and savage wolves Smile kindly on the timid does, than I, O'ercome, feel ought but hate to womankind.

_Nurse:_ But oft doth love put reins on stubborn souls, And all their hatred to affection turns. 575 Behold thy mother's realm of warlike dames; Yet even they the sway of passion know. Of this thy birth itself is proof enough.

_Hippolytus:_ My comfort for my mother's loss is this, That now I'm free to hate all womankind.

_Nurse:_ As some hard crag, on every side unmoved, 580 Resists the waves, and dashes backward far The opposing floods, so he doth spurn my words. But hither Phaedra comes with hasty step, Impatient of delay. What fate is hers? Or to what action doth her madness tend? [Phaedra _enters and falls fainting to the earth_.] But see, in sudden fainting fit she falls, 585 And deathlike pallor overspreads her face. [Hippolytus _hastens to raise her up in his arms_.] Lift up thy face, speak out, my daughter, see, Thine own Hippolytus embraces thee.

_Phaedra_ [_recovering from her faint_]: Who gives me back to griefs, and floods again My soul with heavy care? How well for me Had I sunk down to death! 590

_Hippolytus:_ But why, poor soul, Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?

_Phaedra_ [_aside_]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command. Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fear Suggests a prompt refusal. Even now The greater part of my offense is done. Too late my present modesty. My love, 595 I know, is base; but if I persevere, Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin. Success makes certain sins respectable. Come now, begin. [_To_ Hippolytus]. Bend lower down thine ear, I pray; if any comrade be at hand, Let him depart, that we may speak alone. 600

_Hippolytus:_ Behold, the place is free from witnesses.

_Phaedra:_ My lips refuse to speak my waiting words; A mighty force compels my utterance, A mightier holds it back. Ye heavenly powers, I call ye all to witness, what I wish-- 605

_Hippolytus:_ Thy heart desires and cannot tell its wish?

_Phaedra:_ Light cares speak out, the weighty have no words.

_Hippolytus:_ Into my ears, my mother, tell thy cares.

_Phaedra:_ The name of mother is too proud and high; My heart dictates some humbler name than that. 610 Pray call me sister--slave, Hippolytus. Yes, slave I'd be. I'll bear all servitude; And shouldst thou bid me tread the driven snows, To walk along high Pindus' frozen peaks, I'd not refuse; no, not if thou shouldst bid Me go through fire, and serried ranks of foes, 615 I would not hesitate to bare my breast Unto the naked swords. Take thou the power Which was consigned to me. Make me thy slave. Rule thou the state, and let me subject be. It is no woman's task to guard this realm Of many towns. Do thou, who in the flower 620 Of youth rejoicest, rule the citizens With strong paternal sway. But me receive Into thy arms, and there protect thy slave And suppliant. My widowhood relieve.

_Hippolytus:_ May God on high this omen dark avert! My father will in safety soon return.

_Phaedra:_ Not so: the king of that fast-holding realm 625 And silent Styx has never opened back The doors of earth to those who once have left The realms above. Think'st thou that he will loose The ravisher of his couch? Unless, indeed, Grim Pluto has at last grown mild to love.

_Hippolytus:_ The righteous gods of heaven will bring him back. But while the gods still hold our prayers in doubt, 630 My brothers will I make my pious care, And thee as well. Think not thou art bereft; For I will fill for thee my father's place.

_Phaedra_ [_aside_]: Oh, hope of lovers, easily beguiled! Deceitful love! Has he[21] not said enough? 635 I'll ply him now with prayers. [_To_ Hippolytus.] Oh, pity me. Hear thou the prayers which I must only think. I long to utter them, but am ashamed.

_Hippolytus:_ What is thy trouble then?

_Phaedra:_ A trouble mine, Which thou wouldst scarce believe could vex the soul Of any stepdame.

_Hippolytus:_ Speak more openly; In doubtful words thy meaning thou dost wrap.

_Phaedra:_ My maddened heart with burning love is scorched; 640 My inmost marrow is devoured with love; And through my veins and vitals steals the fire, As when the flames through roomy holds of ships Run darting. 645

_Hippolytus:_ Surely with a modest love For Theseus thou dost burn.

_Phaedra:_ Hippolytus, 'Tis thus with me: I love those former looks Of Theseus, which in early manhood once He wore, when first a beard began to show Upon his modest cheeks, what time he saw The Cretan monster's hidden lurking-place, And by a thread his labyrinthine way 650 Retraced. Oh, what a glorious sight he was! Soft fillets held in check his flowing locks, And modesty upon his tender face Glowed blushing red. His soft-appearing arms But half concealed his muscles' manly strength. His face was like thy heavenly Phoebe's face, Or my Apollo's, or 'twas like thine own. 655 Like thee, like thee he was when first he pleased His enemy. Just so he proudly held His head erect; still more in thee shines out That beauty unadorned; in thee I find Thy father all. And yet thy mother's stern And lofty beauty has some share in thee; Her Scythian firmness tempers Grecian grace. 660 If with thy father thou hadst sailed to Crete, My sister would have spun the thread for thee And not for him. O sister, wheresoe'er In heaven's starry vault thou shinest, thee, Oh, thee I call to aid my hapless cause, So like thine own. One house has overthrown 665 Two sisters, thee the father, me the son. [_To_ Hippolytus.] Behold, as suppliant, fallen to thy knees, A royal princess kneels. Without a spot Of sin, unstained and innocent, was I; And thou alone hast wrought the change in me. See at thy feet I kneel and pray, resolved This day shall end my misery or life. 670 Oh, pity her who loves thee--

_Hippolytus:_ God in heaven, Great ruler of all gods, dost thou this sin So calmly hear, so calmly see? If now Thou hurlest not thy bolt with deadly hand, What shameful cause will ever send it forth? Let all the sky in shattered ruins fall, And hide the light of day in murky clouds. 675 Let stars turn back, and trace again their course Athwart their proper ways. And thou, great star Of stars, thou radiant Sun, let not thine eyes Behold the impious shame of this thy stock; But hide thy face, and to the darkness flee Why is thy hand, O king of gods and men, 680 Inactive? Why by forkéd lightning's brands Is not the world in flames? Direct thy bolts At me; pierce me. Let that fierce darting flame Consume me quite, for mine is all the blame. I ought to die, for I have favor found In my stepmother's eyes. [_To_ Phaedra.] Did I seem one To thee to do this vile and shameful thing? Did I seem easy fuel to thy fire, 685 I only? Has my virtuous life deserved Such estimate? Thou, worse than all thy kind! Thou woman, who hast in thy heart conceived A deed more shameful than thy mother's sin, Whose womb gave monstrous birth; thou worse than she! She stained herself with vilest lust, and long 690 Concealed the deed. But all in vain: at last, Her two-formed child revealed his mother's crime, And by his fierce bull-visage proved her guilt. Of such a womb and mother art thou born. Oh, thrice and four times blesséd is their lot Whom hate and treachery give o'er and doom 695 To death. O father, how I envy thee! Thy stepdame was the Colchian; but this, This woman is a greater curse than she.

_Phaedra:_ I clearly see the destiny of my house: We follow ever what we should avoid. But I have given over self-control; I'll follow thee through fire, through raging sea, 700 O'er ragged cliffs, through roaring torrents wild-- Wherever thou dost go, in mad pursuit I shall be borne. Again, O haughty one, I fall in suppliance and embrace thy knees.

_Hippolytus:_ Away from my chaste body with thy touch Impure! What more? She falls upon my breast! 705 I'll draw my sword and smite as she deserves. See, by her twisted locks, I backward bend Her shameless head. No blood more worthily Was ever spilled, O goddess of the bow, Upon thy altars.

_Phaedra:_ Now, Hippolytus, 710 Thou dost fulfil the fondest wish of mine; Thou sav'st me from my madness; greater far Than all my hopes, that by the hands I love, By thine own hands, I perish ere I sin.

_Hippolytus:_ Then live, be gone! Thou shalt gain naught from me. And this my sword, defiled by thy base touch, No more shall hang upon my modest side. [_He throws his sword from him._] What Tanaïs will make me clean again? 715 Or what Maeotis rushing to the sea, With its barbaric waves? Not Neptune's self, With all his ocean's waters could avail To cleanse so foul a stain. O woods! O beasts!

[_He rushes off into the depths of the forest._]

_Nurse_ [_in soliloquy, while_ Phaedra _seems to have fallen in a fainting fit_]: Now is her fault discovered. Soul of mine, Why dost thou stand in dumb amaze? This crime We must throw back upon the man himself, 720 And charge him with a guilty love, ourselves. Sin must be hid by sin. The safest way Is to go straight forward on the course you fear. Who is to know, since no one saw the deed, Whether we dared, ourselves, or suffered ill? [_Raising her voice in a loud cry._] Help! Help! ye dames of Athens! Faithful band 725 Of slaves, bring aid! Behold Hippolytus, With vile adultery, attacks the queen! He has her in his power! He threatens death! At point of sword he storms her chastity! There, he has gone in haste, and left behind His sword in trembling, panic-stricken flight. This proof of guilt we'll keep. But first restore 730 The stricken queen to life. Let all remain Just as they are, her locks disheveled, torn, To show how great a wrong she has endured. Back to the city bear her now. Revive, My mistress. Why dost seek to harm thyself And shun thy comrades' eyes. For be thou sure Not circumstance but will can make impure. 735

[_Exeunt._]

_Chorus:_ He fled away like the storm-blast wild, More swift than cloud-compelling winds; And swifter than the comet's torch, When, driven before the wind, it speeds With long-drawn, trailing fires. 740 Let fame, that boasts of her olden times, Compare with thine all ancient charms: Beyond compare does thy beauty shine, Clear and bright as the full-orbed moon, When, with waxing hours in splendor joined, 745 Night long she speeds her shining car, And her ruddy face so brightly gleams, That the fires of the lesser stars are dimmed. He is fair as the messenger of night, When he leads the evening shadows in, Himself new bathed in the ocean's foam; 750 Or when, the darkness put to flight, He heralds the dawn--bright Lucifer. And thou of the thyrsus, Indian Bacchus, With the flowing locks of endless youth, With thine ivy-clad spear the tigers driving, 755 And thy turban set on thy hornéd head: Not thus will thy glorious locks outshine The unadorned hair of Hippolytus. And admire not thy beauty over much, For fame has spread the story far, How Phaedra's sister preferred to thee, 760 O Bromius, a mortal man. Ah beauty, a doubtful boon art thou, The gift of a fleeting hour! How swift On flying feet thou glidest away! So flowery meadows of the spring The summer's burning heat devours, 765 When midday's raging sun rides high, And night's brief round is hurried through. As the lilies languish on their stems, So pleasing tresses fail the head; And swiftly is the radiance dimmed 770 Which gleams from the tender cheeks of youth! Each day hath its spoil from the lovely form; For beauty flees and soon is gone. Who then would trust a gift so frail? Nay, use its joys, while still thou mayst; For silent time will soon destroy thee, 775 And hours to baser hours steal on. Why seek the desert wilds? Thy form Is no more safe in pathless ways. If in the forest's depths thou hide, When Titan brings the noonday heat, The saucy Naïds will surround thee, 780 Who are wont in their clear springs to snare The lovely youth; and 'gainst thy sleep The wanton goddesses of groves, The Dryads, who the roving Pans Drive in pursuit, will mischief plot. Or else that glowing star, whose birth 785 The old Arcadians beheld, Will see thee from the spangled sky, And straight forget to drive her car. Of late she blushed a fiery red, And yet no staining cloud obscured Her shining disk. But we, in fear For her troubled face, clashed cymbals loud, 790 Deeming her harried by the charms Of Thessaly. But for thee alone Was all her toil; thou wast the cause Of her long delay; for, seeing thee, The night's fair goddess checked her course. If only winter's blasts would beat 795 Less fiercely on that face of thine; If less it felt the sun's hot rays, More bright than Parian marble's gleam Would it appear. How beautiful The manly sternness in thy face, Thy brow's dark frowning majesty! Compare with Phoebus' that fair neck. 800 His hair o'er his shoulders flowing free, Unbound by fillet, ornaments And shelters him. A shaggy brow Becomes thee best; thee, shorter locks, In tossing disarray. 'Tis thine The rough and warlike gods to meet 805 In strife, and by thy mighty strength To overcome them. Even now, The muscles of a Hercules Thy youthful arms can match. Thy breast Is broader than the breast of Mars. If on a horny-footed steed Thou'rt pleased to mount, not Castor's self 810 More easily could hold in check The Spartan Cyllarus. Take thong in hand; with all thy strength Discharge the javelin: not so far, Though they be trained to hurl the dart, Will Cretans send the slender reed. 815 Or if it please thee into air, In Parthian style, to shoot thy darts, None will descend without its bird, Fixed deep within the throbbing breast; From out the very clouds thy prey Thou wilt regain. By few has beauty been possessed (The voice of history proclaims) 820 Without some loss or suffering. But thee, unharmed, may God pass by More merciful, and may thy form, Now famous for its beauty, show At last the marks of ugly age. What crime would woman's fury leave undared? She plans against this harmless youth some fraud. 825 Behold her scheme! For by her tumbled hair, All torn, she seeks sure credence for her tale. She wets her cheeks with tears; and every art That woman's shrewdness knows, does she employ. [_A man is seen approaching, who proves to be_ Theseus.] But who is that who comes with grace of kings Displayed upon his face, his lofty head 830 Held high in kingly pride? In countenance, How like the young Pirithoüs he seems, Were not his cheeks too deadly pale and wan, And if his hair fell not in locks unkempt. Behold, 'tis Theseus' self returned to earth.

FOOTNOTES:

[20] Reading, _luxus_.

[21] Reading, _dixit_.