Phaedra | Page 8

King. And
Phaedra, fearing for her son, Asks counsel of the friends who share her
trouble, Here in this palace.
ARICIA Will Hippolytus, Think you, prove kinder than his sire, make
light My chains, and pity my misfortunes?
ISMENE Yes, I think so, Madam.
ARICIA Ah, you know him not Or you would never deem so hard a
heart Can pity feel, or me alone except From the contempt in which he

holds our sex. Has he not long avoided every spot Where we resort?
ISMENE I know what tales are told Of proud Hippolytus, but I have
seen Him near you, and have watch'd with curious eye How one
esteem'd so cold would bear himself. Little did his behavior correspond
With what I look'd for; in his face confusion Appear'd at your first
glance, he could not turn His languid eyes away, but gazed on you.
Love is a word that may offend his pride, But what the tongue disowns,
looks can betray.
ARICIA How eagerly my heart hears 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