Phaedra | Page 8

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