Phaedra | Page 5

his enemy new charms. And, after all, why should a guiltless passion Alarm you? Dare you not essay its sweetness, But follow rather a fastidious scruple? Fear you to stray where Hercules has wander'd? What heart so stout that Venus has not vanquish'd? Where would you be yourself, so long her foe, Had your own mother, constant in her scorn Of love, ne'er glowed with tenderness for Theseus? What boots it to affect a pride you feel not? Confess it, all is changed; for some time past You have been seldom seen with wild delight Urging the rapid car along the strand, Or, skilful in the art that Neptune taught, Making th' unbroken steed obey the bit; Less often have the woods return'd our shouts; A secret burden on your spirits cast Has dimm'd your eye. How can I doubt you love? Vainly would you conceal the fatal wound. Has not the fair Aricia touch'd your heart?
HIPPOLYTUS Theramenes, I go to find my father.
THERAMENES Will you not see the queen before you start, My prince?
HIPPOLYTUS That is my purpose: you can tell her. Yes, I will see her; duty bids me do it. But what new ill vexes her dear Oenone?

SCENE II HIPPOLYTUS, OENONE, THERAMENES
OENONE Alas, my lord, what grief was e'er like mine? The queen has almost touch'd the gates of death. Vainly close watch I keep by day and night, E'en in my arms a secret malady Slays her, and all her senses are disorder'd. Weary yet restless from her couch she rises, Pants for the outer air, but bids me see That no one on her misery intrudes. She comes.
HIPPOLYTUS Enough. She shall not be disturb'd, Nor be confronted with a face she hates.

SCENE III PHAEDRA, OENONE
PHAEDRA We have gone far enough. Stay, dear Oenone; Strength fails me, and I needs must rest awhile. My eyes are dazzled with this glaring light So long unseen, my trembling knees refuse Support. Ah me!
OENONE Would Heaven that our tears Might bring relief!
PHAEDRA Ah, how these cumbrous gauds, These veils oppress me! What officious hand Has tied these knots, and gather'd o'er my brow These clustering coils? How all conspires to add To my distress!
OENONE What is one moment wish'd, The next, is irksome. Did you not just now, Sick of inaction, bid us deck you out, And, with your former energy recall'd, Desire to go abroad, and see the light Of day once more? You see it, and would fain Be hidden from the sunshine that you sought.
PHAEDRA Thou glorious author of a hapless race, Whose daughter 'twas my mother's boast to be, Who well may'st blush to see me in such plight, For the last time I come to look on thee, O Sun!
OENONE What! Still are you in love with death? Shall I ne'er see you, reconciled to life, Forego these cruel accents of despair?
PHAEDRA Would I were seated in the forest's shade! When may I follow with delighted eye, Thro' glorious dust flying in full career, A chariot--
OENONE Madam?
PHAEDRA Have I lost my senses? What said I? and where am I? Whither stray Vain wishes? Ah! The gods have made me mad. I blush, Oenone, and confusion covers My face, for I have let you see too clearly The shame of grief that, in my own despite, O'erflows these eyes of mine.
OENONE If you must blush, Blush at a silence that inflames your woes. Resisting all my care, deaf to my voice, Will you have no compassion on yourself, But let your life be ended in mid course? What evil spell has drain'd its fountain dry? Thrice have the shades of night obscured the heav'ns Since sleep has enter'd thro' your eyes, and thrice The dawn has chased the darkness thence, since food Pass'd your wan lips, and you are faint and languid. To what dread purpose is your heart inclined? How dare you make attempts upon your life, And so offend the gods who gave it you, Prove false to Theseus and your marriage vows, Ay, and betray your most unhappy children, Bending their necks yourself beneath the yoke? That day, be sure, which robs them of their mother, Will give high hopes back to the stranger's son, To that proud enemy of you and yours, To whom an Amazon gave birth, I mean Hippolytus--
PHAEDRA Ye gods!
OENONE Ah, this reproach Moves you!
PHAEDRA Unhappy woman, to what name Gave your mouth utterance?
OENONE Your wrath is just. 'Tis well that that ill-omen'd name can rouse Such rage. Then live. Let love and duty urge Their claims. Live, suffer not this son of Scythia, Crushing your children 'neath his odious sway, To rule the noble offspring of the gods, The purest blood of Greece. Make no delay; Each moment threatens death; quickly restore Your shatter'd strength, while yet