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.
