{"collection":"Classics","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/browse/cla/eurip/hippol.htm","path":"cla/eurip/hippol.htm","source_url":"https://sacred-texts.com/cla/eurip/hippol.htm","text":"Hippolytus\nBy Euripides\nTranslated by E. P. Coleridge\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nDramatis Personae\nAPHRODITE\nHIPPOLYTUS, bastard son of THESEUS\nATTENDANTS OF HIPPOLYTUS\nCHORUS OF TROEZENIAN WOMEN\nNURSE OF PHAEDRA\nPHAEDRA, wife of THESEUS\nTHESEUS\nMESSENGER\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nBefore the royal palace at Troezen. There is a statue of APHRODITE\non one side; on the other, a statue of ARTEMIS. There is an altar\nbefore each image. The goddess APHRODITE appears alone.\n----------------------------------------------------------------------\nAPHRODITE Wide o'er man my realm extends, and proud the name that\nI, the goddess Cypris, bear, both in heaven's courts and 'mongst all\nthose who dwell within the limits of the sea and the bounds of Atlas,\nbeholding the sun-god's light; those that respect my power I advance\nto honour, but bring to ruin all who vaunt themselves at me. For even\nin the race of gods this feeling finds a home, even pleasure at the\nhonour men pay them. And the truth of this I soon will show; for that\nson of Theseus, born of the Amazon, Hippolytus, whom holy Pittheus\ntaught, alone of all the dwellers in this land of Troezen, calls me\nvilest of the deities. Love he scorns, and, as for marriage, will\nnone of it; but Artemis, daughter of Zeus, sister of Phoebus, he doth\nhonour, counting her the chief of goddesses, and ever through the\ngreenwood, attendant on his virgin goddess, he clears the earth of\nwild beasts with his fleet hounds, enjoying the comradeship of one\ntoo high for mortal ken. 'Tis not this I grudge him, no! why should\nI? But for his sins against me, I will this very day take vengeance\non Hippolytus; for long ago I cleared the ground of many obstacles,\nso it needs but trifling toil. For as he came one day from the home\nof Pittheus to witness the solemn mystic rites and be initiated therein\nin Pandion's land, Phaedra, his father's noble wife, caught sight\nof him, and by my designs she found her heart was seized with wild\ndesire. And ere she came to this Troezenian realm, a temple did she\nrear to Cypris hard by the rock of Pallas where it o'erlooks this\ncountry, for love of the youth in another land; and to win his love\nin days to come she called after his name the temple she had founded\nfor the goddess. Now, when Theseus left the land of Cecrops, flying\nthe pollution of the blood of Pallas' sons, and with his wife sailed\nto this shore, content to suffer exile for a year, then began the\nwretched wife to pine away in silence, moaning 'neath love's cruel\nscourge, and none of her servants knows what disease afflicts her.\nBut this passion of hers must not fail thus. No, I will discover the\nmatter to Theseus, and all shall be laid bare. Then will the father\nslay his child, my bitter foe, by curses, for the lord Poseidon granted\nthis boon to Theseus; three wishes of the god to ask, nor ever ask\nin vain. So Phaedra is to die, an honoured death 'tis true, but still\nto die; for I will not let her suffering outweigh the payment of such\nforfeit by my foes as shall satisfy my honour. But lo! I see the son\nof Theseus coming hither-Hippolytus, fresh from the labours of the\nchase. I will get me hence. At his back follows a long train of retainers,\nin joyous cries of revelry uniting and hymns of praise to Artemis,\nhis goddess; for little he recks that Death hath oped his gates for\nhim, and that this is his last look upon the light. (APHRODITE vanishes.\nHIPPOLYTUS and his retinue of hunting ATTENDANTS enter, singing. They\nmove to worship at the altar of ARTEMIS.)\nHIPPOLYTUS Come follow, friends, singing to Artemis, daughter of\nZeus, throned in the sky, whose votaries we are.\nATTENDANTS Lady goddess, awful queen, daughter of Zeus, all hail!\nhail! of Latona and of Zeus, peerless mid the virgin choir, who hast\nthy dwelling in heaven's wide mansions at thy noble father's court,\nin the golden house of Zeus. All hail! most beauteous Artemis, lovelier\nfar than all the daughters of Olympus!\nHIPPOLYTUS (speaking) For thee, O mistress mine, I bring this woven\nwreath, culled from a virgin meadow, where nor shepherd dares to herd\nhis flock nor ever scythe hath mown, but o'er the mead unshorn the\nbee doth wing its way in spring; and with the dew from rivers drawn\npurity that garden tends. Such as know no cunning lore, yet in whose\nnature self-control, made perfect, hath a home, these may pluck the\nflowers, but not the wicked world. Accept, I pray, dear mistress,\nmine this chaplet from my holy hand to crown thy locks of gold; for\nI, and none other of mortals, have this high guerdon, to be with thee,\nwith thee converse, hearing thy voice, though not thy face beholding.\nSo be it mine to end my life as I began.\nLEADER OF THE ATTENDANTS My prince! we needs must call upon the gods,\nour lords, so wilt thou listen to a friendly word from me?\nHIPPOLYTUS Why, that will I! else were I proved a fool.\nLEADER Dost know, then, the way of the world?\nHIPPOLYTUS Not I; but wherefore such a question?\nLEADER It hates reserve which careth not for all men's love.\nHIPPOLYTUS And rightly too; reserve in man is ever galling.\nLEADER But there's a charm in courtesy?\nHIPPOLYTUS The greatest surely; aye, and profit, too, at trifling\ncost.\nLEADER Dost think the same law holds in heaven as well?\nHIPPOLYTUS I trow it doth, since all our laws we men from heaven\ndraw.\nLEADER Why, then, dost thou neglect to greet an august goddess?\nHIPPOLYTUS Whom speak'st thou of? Keep watch upon thy tongue lest\nit same mischief cause.\nLEADER Cypris I mean, whose image is stationed o'er thy gate.\nHIPPOLYTUS I greet her from afar, preserving still my chastity.\nLEADER Yet is she an august goddess, far renowned on earth.\nHIPPOLYTUS 'Mongst gods as well as men we have our several preferences.\nLEADER I wish thee luck, and wisdom too, so far as thou dost need\nit.\nHIPPOLYTUS No god, whose worship craves the night, hath charms for\nme.\nLEADER My son, we should avail us of the gifts that gods confer.\nHIPPOLYTUS Go in, my faithful followers, and make ready food within\nthe house; a well-filled board hath charms after the chase is o'er.\nRub down my steeds ye must, that when I have had my fill I may yoke\nthem to the chariot and give them proper exercise. As for thy Queen\nof Love, a long farewell to her. (HIPPOLYTUS goes into the palace,\nfollowed by all the ATTENDANTS except the LEADER, who prays before\nthe statue of APHRODITE.)\nLEADER Meantime I with sober mind, for I must not copy my young master,\ndo offer up my prayer to thy image, lady Cypris, in such words as\nit becomes a slave to use. But thou should'st pardon all, who, in\nyouth's impetuous heat, speak idle words of thee; make as though thou\nhearest not, for gods must needs be wiser than the sons of men. (The\nLEADER goes into the palace. The CHORUS OF TROEZENIAN WOMEN enters.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nA rock there is, where, as they say, the ocean dew distils, and from\nits beetling brow it pours a copious stream for pitchers to be dipped\ntherein; 'twas here I had a friend washing robes of purple in the\ntrickling stream, and she was spreading them out on the face of warm\nsunny rock; from her I had the tidings, first of all, that my mistress-\n(antistrophe 1)\nWas wasting on the bed of sickness, pent within her house, a thin\nveil o'ershadowing her head of golden hair. And this is the third\nday I hear that she hath closed her lovely lips and denied her chaste\nbody all sustenance, eager to hide her suffering and reach death's\ncheerless bourn.\n(strophe 2)\nMaiden, thou must be possessed, by Pan made frantic or by Hecate,\nor by the Corybantes dread, and Cybele the mountain mother. Or maybe\nthou hast sinned against Dictynna, huntress-queen, and art wasting\nfor thy guilt in sacrifice unoffered. For she doth range o'er lakes'\nexpanse and past the bounds of earth upon the ocean's tossing billows.\n(antistrophe 2)\nOr doth some rival in thy house beguile thy lord, the captain of\nErechtheus' sons, that hero nobly born, to secret amours hid from\nthee? Or hath some mariner sailing hither from Crete reached this\nport that sailors love, with evil tidings for our queen, and she with\nsorrow for her grievous fate is to her bed confined?\n(epode)\nYea, and oft o'er woman's wayward nature settles a feeling of miserable\nhelplessness, arising from pains of child-birth or of passionate desire.\nI, too, have felt at times this sharp thrill shoot through me, but\nI would cry to Artemis, queen of archery, who comes from heaven to\naid us in our travail, and thanks to heaven's grace she ever comes\nat my call with welcome help. Look! where the aged nurse is bringing\nher forth from the house before the door, while on her brow the cloud\nof gloom is deepening. My soul longs to learn what is her grief, the\ncanker that is wasting our queen's fading charms. (PHAEDRA is led\nout and placed upon a couch by the NURSE and attendants. The following\nlines between the NURSE and PHAEDRA are chanted.)\nNURSE O, the ills of mortal men! the cruel diseases they endure!\nWhat can I do for thee? from what refrain? Here is the bright sunlight,\nhere the azure sky; lo! we have brought thee on thy bed of sickness\nwithout the palace; for all thy talk was of coming hither, but soon\nback to thy chamber wilt thou hurry. Disappointment follows fast with\nthee, thou hast no joy in aught for long; the present has no power\nto please; on something absent next thy heart is set. Better be sick\nthan tend the sick; the first is but a single ill, the last unites\nmental grief with manual toil. Man's whole life is full of anguish;\nno respite from his woes he finds; but if there is aught to love beyond\nthis life, night's dark pall doth wrap it round. And so we show our\nmad love of this life because its light is shed on earth, and because\nwe know no other, and have naught revealed to us of all our earth\nmay hide; and trusting to fables we drift at random.\nPHAEDRA (wildly) Lift my body, raise my head! My limbs are all unstrung,\nkind friends. O handmaids, lift my arms, my shapely arms. The tire\non my head is too heavy for me to wear; away with it, and let my tresses\no'er my shoulders fall.\nBe of good heart, dear child; toss not so wildly to and fro. Lie still,\nbe brave, so wilt thou find thy sickness easier to bear; suffering\nfor mortals is nature's iron law.\nPHAEDRA Ah! would I could draw a draught of water pure from some\ndew-fed spring, and lay me down to rest in the grassy meadow 'neath\nthe poplar's shade!\nNURSE My child, what wild speech is this? O say not such things in\npublic, wild whirling words of frenzy bred!\nPHAEDRA Away to the mountain take me! to the wood, to the pine-trees\nwill go, where hounds pursue the prey, hard on the scent of dappled\nfawns. Ye gods! what joy to hark them on, to grasp the barbed dart,\nto poise Thessalian hunting-spears close to my golden hair, then let\nthem fly.\nNURSE Why, why, my child, these anxious cares? What hast thou to\ndo with the chase? Why so eager for the flowing spring, when hard\nby these towers stands a hill well watered, whence thou may'st freely\ndraw?\nPHAEDRA O Artemis, who watchest o'er sea-beat Limna and the race-course\nthundering to the horse's hoofs, would I were upon thy plains curbing\nVenetian steeds!\nNURSE Why betray thy frenzy in these wild whirling words? Now thou\nwert for hasting hence to the hills away to hunt wild beasts, and\nnow thy yearning is to drive the steed over the waveless sands. This\nneeds a cunning seer to say what god it is that reins thee from the\ncourse, distracting thy senses, child.\nPHAEDRA (more sanely) Ah me! alas! what have I done? Whither have\nI strayed, my senses leaving? Mad, mad! stricken by some demon's curse!\nWoe is me! Cover my head again, nurse. Shame fills me for the words\nI have spoken. Hide me then; from my eyes the tear-drops stream, and\nfor very shame I turn them away. 'Tis painful coming to one's senses\nagain, and madness, evil though it be, has this advantage, that one\nhas no knowledge of reason's overthrow.\nNURSE There then I cover thee; but when will death hide my body in\nthe grave? Many a lesson length of days is teaching me. Yea, mortal\nmen should pledge themselves to moderate friendships only, not to\nsuch as reach the very heart's core; affection's ties should be light\nupon them to let them slip or draw them tight. For one poor heart\nto grieve for twain, as I do for my mistress, is a burden sore to\nbear. Men say that too engrossing pursuits in life more oft cause\ndisappointment than pleasure, and too oft are foes to health. Wherefore\ndo not praise excess so much as moderation, and with me wise men will\nagree. (PHAEDRA lies back upon the couch.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS (speaking) O aged dame, faithful nurse of Phaedra,\nour queen, we see her sorry plight; but what it is that ails her we\ncannot discern, so fain would learn of thee and hear thy opinion.\nNURSE I question her, but am no wiser, for she will not answer.\nLEADER Nor tell what source these sorrows have?\nNURSE The same answer thou must take, for she is dumb on every point.\nLEADER How weak and wasted is her body!\nNURSE What marvel? 'tis three days now since she has tasted food.\nLEADER Is this infatuation, or an attempt to die?\nNURSE 'Tis death she courts; such fasting aims at ending life.\nLEADER A strange story if it satisfies her husband.\nNURSE She hides from him her sorrow, and vows she is not ill.\nLEADER Can he not guess it from her face?\nNURSE He is not now in his own country.\nLEADER But dost not thou insist in thy endeavour to find out her\ncomplaint, her mind?\nNURSE I have tried every plan, and all in vain; yet not even now\nwill I relax my zeal, that thou too, if thou stayest, mayst witness\nmy devotion to my unhappy mistress. Come, come, my darling child,\nlet us forget, the twain of us, our former words; be thou more mild,\nsmoothing that sullen brow and changing the current of thy thought,\nand I, if in aught before failed in humouring thee, will let that\nbe and find some better course. If thou art sick with ills thou canst\nnot name, there be women here to help to set thee right; but if thy\ntrouble can to men's ears be divulged, speak, that physicians may\npronounce on it. Come, then, why so dumb? Thou shouldst not so remain,\nmy child, but scold me if I speak amiss, or, if I give good counsel,\nyield assent. One word, one look this way! Ah me! Friends, we waste\nour toil to no purpose; we are as far away as ever; she would not\nrelent to my arguments then, nor is she yielding now. Well, grow more\nstubborn than the sea, yet be assured of this, that if thou diest\nthou art a traitress to thy children, for they will ne'er inherit\ntheir father's halls, nay, by that knightly queen the Amazon who bore\na son to lord it over thine, a bastard born but not a bastard bred,\nwhom well thou knowest, e'en Hippolytus- (At the mention of his name\nPHAEDRA'S attention is suddenly caught.)\nPHAEDRA Oh! oh!\nNURSE Ha! doth that touch the quick?\nPHAEDRA Thou hast undone me, nurse; I do adjure by the gods, mention\nthat man no more.\nNURSE There now! thou art thyself again, but e'en yet refusest to\naid thy children and preserve thy life.\nPHAEDRA My babes I love, but there is another storm that buffets\nme.\nNURSE Daughter, are thy hands from bloodshed pure?\nPHAEDRA My hands are pure, but on my soul there rests a stain.\nNURSE The issue of some enemy's secret witchery?\nPHAEDRA A friend is my destroyer, one unwilling as myself.\nNURSE Hath Theseus wronged thee in any wise?\nPHAEDRA Never may I prove untrue to himl\nNURSE Then what strange mystery is there that drives thee on to die?\nPHAEDRA O, let my sin and me alone, 'tis not 'gainst thee I sin.\nNURSE Never willingly! and, if I fail, 'twill rest at thy door.\nPHAEDRA How now? thou usest force in clinging to my hand.\nNURSE Yea, and I will never loose my hold upon thy knees.\nPHAEDRA Alas for thee! my sorrows, shouldst thou learn them, would\nrecoil on thee.\nNURSE What keener grief for me than failing to win thee?\nPHAEDRA 'Twill be death to thee; though to me that brings renown.\nNURSE And dost thou then conceal this boon despite my prayers?\nPHAEDRA I do, for 'tis out of shame I am planning an honourable escape.\nNURSE Tell it, and thine honour shall the brighter shine.\nPHAEDRA Away, I do conjure thee; loose my hand.\nNURSE I will not, for the boon thou shouldst have granted me is denied.\nPHAEDRA I will grant it out of reverence for thy holy suppliant touch.\nNURSE Henceforth I hold my peace; 'tis thine to speak from now.\nPHAEDRA Ah! hapless mother, what a love was thine!\nNURSE Her love for the bull? daughter, or what meanest thou?\nPHAEDRA And woe to thee! my sister, bride of Dionysus.\nNURSE What ails thee, child? speaking ill of kith and kin.\nPHAEDRA Myself the third to suffer! how am I undone!\nNURSE Thou strik'st me dumb! Where will this history end?\nPHAEDRA That \"love\" has been our curse from time long past.\nNURSE I know no more of what I fain would learn.\nPHAEDRA Ah! would thou couldst say for me what I have to tell.\nNURSE I aw no prophetess to unriddle secrets.\nPHAEDRA What is it they mean when they talk of people being in \"love-\"?\nNURSE At once the sweetest and the bitterest thing, my child.\nPHAEDRA I shall only find the latter half.\nNURSE Ha! my child, art thou in love?\nPHAEDRA The Amazon's son, whoever he may be-\nNURSE Mean'st thou Hippolytus?\nPHAEDRA 'Twas thou, not I, that spoke his name.\nNURSE O heavens! what is this, my child? Thou hast ruined me. Outrageous!\nfriends; I will not live and bear it; hateful is life, hateful to\nmine eyes the light. This body I resign, will cast it off, and rid\nme of existence by my death. Farewell, my life is o'er. Yea, for the\nchaste I have wicked passions, 'gainst their will maybe, but still\nthey have. Cypris, it seems, is not goddess after all, but something\ngreater far, for she hath been the ruin of my lady and of me and our\nwhole family.\nCHORUS (chanting) O, too clearly didst thou hear our queen uplift\nher voice to tell her startling tale of piteous suffering. Come death\nere I reach thy state of feeling, loved mistress. O horrible! woe,\nfor these miseries! woe, for the sorrows on which mortals feed! Thou\nart undone! thou hast disclosed thy sin to heaven's light. What hath\neach passing day and every hour in store for thee? Some strange event\nwill come to pass in this house. For it is no longer uncertain where\nthe star of thy love is setting, thou hapless daughter of Crete.\nPHAEDRA Women of Troezen, who dwell here upon the frontier edge of\nPelops' land, oft ere now in heedless mood through the long hours\nof night have I wondered why man's life is spoiled; and it seems to\nme their evil case is not due to any natural fault of judgment, for\nthere be many dowered with sense, but we must view the matter in this\nlight: by teaching and experience to learn the right but neglect it\nin practice, some from sloth, others from preferring pleasure of some\nkind or other to duty. Now life has many pleasures, protracted talk,\nand leisure, that seductive evil; likewise there is shame which is\nof two kinds, one a noble quality, the other a curse to families;\nbut if for each its proper time were clearly known, these twain could\nnot have had the selfsame letters to denote them. So then since I\nhad made up my mind on these points, 'twas not likely any drug would\nalter it and make me think the contrary. And I will tell the too the\nway my judgment went. When love wounded me, I bethought me how I best\nmight bear the smart. So from that day forth I began to hide in silence\nwhat I suffered. For I put no faith in counsellors, who know well\nto lecture others for presumption, yet themselves have countless troubles\nof their own. Next I did devise noble endurance of these wanton thoughts,\nstriving by continence for victory. And last when I could not succeed\nin mastering love hereby, methought it best to die; and none can gainsay\nmy purpose. For fain I would my virtue should to all appear, my shame\nhave few to witness it. I knew my sickly passion now; to yield to\nit I saw how infamous; and more, I learnt to know so well that I was\nbut woman, a thing the world detests. Curses, hideous curses on that\nwife who first did shame her marriage-vow for lovers other than her\nlord! 'Twas from noble families this curse began to spread among our\nsex. For when the noble countenance disgrace, poor folk of course\nwill think that it is right. Those too I hate who make profession\nof purity, though in secret reckless sinners. How can these, queen\nCypris, ocean's child, e'er look their husbands in the face? do they\nnever feel one guilty thrill that their accomplice, night, or the\nchambers of their house will find a voice and speak? This it is that\ncalls on me to die, kind friends, that so I may ne'er be found to\nhave disgraced my lord, or the children I have borne; no! may they\ngrow up and dwell in glorious Athens, free to speak and act, heirs\nto such fair fame as a mother can bequeath. For to know that father\nor mother has sinned doth turn the stoutest heart to slavishness.\nThis alone, men say, can stand the buffets of life's battle, a just\nand virtuous soul in whomsoever found. For time unmasks the villain\nsoon or late, holding up to them a mirror as to some blooming maid.\n'Mongst such may I be never seen!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Now look! how fair is chastity however viewed,\nwhose fruit is good repute amongst men.\nNURSE My queen, 'tis true thy tale of woe, but lately told, did for\nthe moment strike me with wild alarm, but now I do reflect upon my\nfoolishness; second thoughts are often best even with men. Thy fate\nis no uncommon nor past one's calculations; thou art stricken by the\npassion Cypris sends. Thou art in love; what wonder? so are many more.\nWilt thou, because thou lov'st, destroy thyself? 'Tis little gain,\nI trow, for those who love or yet may love their fellows, if death\nmust be their end; for though the Love-Queen's onset in her might\nis more than man can bear, yet doth she gently visit yielding hearts,\nand only when she finds a proud unnatural spirit, doth she take and\nmock it past belief. Her path is in the sky, and mid the ocean's surge\nshe rides; from her all nature springs; she sows the seeds of love,\ninspires the warm desire to which we sons of earth all owe our being.\nThey who have aught to do with books of ancient scribes, or themselves\nengage in studious pursuits, know how Zeus of Semele was enamoured,\nhow the bright-eyed goddess of the Dawn once stole Cephalus to dwell\nin heaven for the love she bore him; yet these in heaven abide nor\nshun the gods' approach, content, I trow, to yield to their misfortune.\nWilt thou refuse to yield? thy sire, it seems, should have begotten\nthee on special terms or with different gods for masters, if in these\nlaws thou wilt not acquiesce. How many, prithee, men of sterling sense,\nwhen they see their wives unfaithful, make as though they saw it not?\nHow many fathers, when their sons have gone astray, assist them in\ntheir amours? 'Tis part of human wisdom to conceal the deed of shame.\nNor should man aim at too great refinement in his life; for they cannot\nwith exactness finish e'en the roof that covers in a house; and how\ndost thou, after falling into so deep a pit, think to escape? Nay,\nif thou hast more of good than bad, thou wilt fare exceeding well,\nthy human nature considered. O cease, my darling child, from evil\nthoughts, let wanton pride be gone, for this is naught else, this\nwish to rival gods in perfectness. Face thy love; 'tis heaven's will\nthou shouldst. Sick thou art, yet turn thy sickness to some happy\nissue. For there are charms and spells to soothe the soul; surely\nsome cure for thy disease will be found. Men, no doubt, might seek\nit long and late if our women's minds no scheme devise.\nLEADER Although she gives thee at thy present need the wiser counsel,\nPhaedra, yet do I praise thee. Still my praise may sound more harsh\nand jar more cruelly on thy ear than her advice.\nPHAEDRA 'Tis even this, too plausible a tongue, that overthrows good\ngovernments and homes of men. We should not speak to please the ear\nbut point the path that leads to noble fame.\nNURSE What means this solemn speech? Thou needst not rounded phrases,-but\na man. Straightway must we move to tell him frankly how it is with\nthee. Had not thy life to such a crisis come, or wert thou with self-control\nI endowed, ne'er would I to gratify thy passions have urged thee to\nthis course; but now 'tis a struggle fierce to save thy life, and\ntherefore less to blame.\nPHAEDRA Accursed proposal! peace, woman! never utter those shameful\nwords again!\nNURSE Shameful, maybe, yet for thee better than honour's code. Better\nthis deed, if it shall save thy life, than that name thy pride will\nkill thee to retain.\nPHAEDRA I conjure thee, go no further! for thy words are plausible\nbut infamous; for though as yet love has not undermined my soul, yet,\nif in specious words thou dress thy foul suggestion, I shall be beguiled\ninto the snare from which I am now escaping.\nNURSE If thou art of this mind, 'twere well thou ne'er hadst sinned;\nbut as it is, hear me; for that is the next best course; I in my house\nhave charms to soothe thy love,-'twas but now I thought of them;-these\nshall cure thee of thy sickness on no disgraceful terms, thy mind\nunhurt, if thou wilt be but brave. But from him thou lovest we must\nget some token, word or fragment of his robe, and thereby unite in\none love's twofold stream.\nPHAEDRA Is thy drug a salve or potion?\nNURSE I cannot tell; be content, my child, to profit by it and ask\nno questions.\nPHAEDRA I fear me thou wilt prove too wise for me.\nNURSE If thou fear this, confess thyself afraid of all; but why thy\nterror!\nPHAEDRA Lest thou shouldst breathe a word of this to Theseus' son.\nNURSE Peace, my child! I will do all things well; only be thou, queen\nCypris, ocean's child, my partner in the work! And for the rest of\nmy purpose, it will be enough for me to tell it to our friends within\nthe house. (The NURSE goes into the palace.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nO Love, Love, that from the eyes diffusest soft desire, bringing\non the souls of those, whom thou dost camp against, sweet grace, O\nnever in evil mood appear to me, nor out of time and tune approach!\nNor fire nor meteor hurls a mightier bolt than Aphrodite's shaft shot\nby the hands of Love, the child of Zeus.\n(antistrophe 1)\nIdly, idly by the streams of Alpheus and in the Pythian shrines of\nPhoebus, Hellas heaps the slaughtered steers; while Love we worship\nnot, Love, the king of men, who holds the key to Aphrodite's sweetest\nbower,-worship not him who, when he comes, lays waste and marks his\npath to mortal hearts by wide-spread woe.\n(strophe 2)\nThere was that maiden in Oechalia, a girl unwed, that knew no wooer\nyet nor married joys; her did the Queen of Love snatch from her home\nacross the sea and gave unto Alcmena's son, mid blood and smoke and\nmurderous marriage-hymns, to be to him a frantic fiend of hell; woe!\nwoe for his wooing!\n(antistrophe 2)\nAh! holy walls of Thebes, ah! fount of Dirce, ye could testify what\ncourse the love-queen follows. For with the blazing levin-bolt did\nshe cut short the fatal marriage of Semele, mother of Zeus-born Bacchus.\nAll things she doth inspire, dread goddess, winging her flight hither\nand thither like a bee.\nPHAEDRA Peace, oh women, peace! I am undone.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS What, Phaedra, is this dread event within thy\nhouse?\nPHAEDRA Hush! let me hear what those within are saying.\nLEADER I am silent; this is surely the prelude to evil.\nPHAEDRA (chanting) Great gods! how awful are my sufferings!\nCHORUS (chanting) What a cry was there! what loud alarm! say what\nsudden terror, lady, doth thy soul dismay.\nPHAEDRA I am undone. Stand here at the door and hear the noise arising\nin the house.\nCHORUS (chanting) Thou art already by the bolted door; 'tis for\nthee to note the sounds that issue from within. And tell me, O tell\nme what evil can be on foot.\nPHAEDRA 'Tis the son of the horse-loving Amazon who calls, Hippolytus,\nuttering foul curses on my servant.\nCHORUS (chanting) I hear a noise but cannot dearly tell which way\nit comes. Ah! 'tis through the door the sound reached thee.\nPHAEDRA Yes, yes, he is calling her plainly enough a go-between in\nvice, traitress to her master's honour.\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe, woe is me! thou art betrayed, dear mistress!\nWhat counsel shall I give thee? thy secret is out; thou art utterly\nundone.\nPHAEDRA Ah me! ah me!\nCHORUS (chanting) Betrayed by friends!\nPHAEDRA She hath ruined me by speaking of my misfortune; 'twas kindly\nmeant, but an ill way to cure my malady.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS O what wilt thou do now in thy cruel dilemma?\nPHAEDRA I only know one way, one cure for these my woes, and that\nis instant death. (HIPPOLYTUS bursts out of the palace, followed\nclosely by the NURSE.)\nHIPPOLYTUS O mother earth! O sun's unclouded orb! What words, unfit\nfor any lips, have reached my ears!\nNURSE Peace, my son, lest some one hear thy outcry.\nHIPPOLYTUS I cannot hear such awful words and hold my peace.\nNURSE I do implore thee by thy fair right hand.\nHIPPOLYTUS Let go my hand, touch not my robe.\nNURSE O by thy knees I pray, destroy me not utterly.\nHIPPOLYTUS Why say this, if, as thou pretendest, thy lips are free\nfrom blame?\nNURSE My son, this is no story to be noised abroad.\nHIPPOLYTUS A virtuous tale grows fairer told to many.\nNURSE Never dishonour thy oath, my son.\nHIPPOLYTUS My tongue an oath did take, but not my heart.\nNURSE My son, what wilt thou do? destroy thy friends?\nHIPPOLYTUS Friends indeed! the wicked are no friends of mine.\nNURSE O pardon me; to err is only human, child.\nHIPPOLYTUS Great Zeus, why didst thou, to man's sorrow, put woman,\nevil counterfeit, to dwell where shines the sun? If thou wert minded\nthat the human race should multiply, it was not from women they should\nhave drawn their stock, but in thy temples they should have paid gold\nor iron or ponderous bronze and bought a family, each man proportioned\nto his offering, and so in independence dwelt, from women free. But\nnow as soon as ever we would bring this plague into our home we bring\nits fortune to the ground. 'Tis clear from this how great a curse\na woman is; the very father, that begot and nurtured her, to rid him\nof the mischief, gives her a dower and packs her off; while the husband,\nwho takes the noxious weed into his home, fondly decks his sorry idol\nin fine raiment and tricks her out in robes, squandering by degrees,\nunhappy wight! his house's wealth. For he is in this dilemma; say\nhis marriage has brought him good connections, he is glad then to\nkeep the wife he loathes; or, if he gets a good wife but useless kin,\nhe tries to stifle the bad luck with the good. But it is easiest for\nhim who has settled in his house as wife mere cipher, incapable from\nsimplicity. I hate a clever woman; never may she set foot in my house\nwho aims at knowing more than women need; for in these clever women\nCypris implants a larger store of villainy, while the artless woman\nis by her shallow wit from levity debarred. No servant should ever\nhave had access to a wife, but men should put to live with them beasts,\nwhich bite, not talk, in which case they could not speak to any one\nnor be answered back by them. But, as it is, the wicked in their chambers\nplot wickedness, and their servants carry it abroad. Even thus, vile\nwretch, thou cam'st to make me partner in an outrage on my father's\nhonour; wherefore I must wash that stain away in running streams,\ndashing the water into my ears. How could I commit so foul a crime\nwhen by the very mention of it I feel myself polluted? Be well assured,\nwoman, 'tis only my religious scruple saves thee. For had not I unawares\nbeen caught by an oath, 'fore heaven! I would not have refrained from\ntelling all unto my father. But now I will from the house away, so\nlong as Theseus is abroad, and will maintain strict silence. But,\nwhen my father comes, I will return and see how thou and thy mistress\nface him, and so shall I learn by experience the extent of thy audacity.\nPerdition seize you both! I can never satisfy my hate for women, no!\nnot even though some say this is ever my theme, for of a truth they\nalways are evil. So either let some one prove them chaste, or let\nme still trample on them for ever. (HIPPOLYTUS departs in anger.)\nCHORUS (chanting) O the cruel, unhappy fate of women! What arts,\nwhat arguments have we, once we have made a slip, to loose by craft\nthe tight-drawn knot?\nPHAEDRA (chanting) I have met my deserts. O earth, O light of day!\nHow can I escape the stroke of fate? How my pangs conceal, kind friends?\nWhat god will appear to help me, what mortal to take my part or help\nme in unrighteousness? The present calamity of my life admits of no\nescape. Most hapless I of all my sex!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Alas, alas! the deed is done, thy servant's\nschemes have gone awry, my queen, and all is lost.\nPHAEDRA (to the NURSE) Accursed woman! traitress to thy friends!\nHow hast thou ruined me! May Zeus, my ancestor, smite thee with his\nfiery bolt and uproot thee from thy place. Did I not foresee thy purpose,\ndid I not bid thee keep silence on the very matter which is now my\nshame? But thou wouldst not be still; wherefore my fair name will\nnot go with me to the tomb. But now I must another scheme devise.\nYon youth, in the keenness of his fury, will tell his father of my\nsin, and the aged Pittheus of my state and fill the world with stories\nto my shame. Perdition seize thee and every meddling fool who by dishonest\nmeans would serve unwilling friends!\nNURSE Mistress, thou may'st condemn the mischief I have done, for\nsorrow's sting o'ermasters thy judgment; yet can I answer thee in\nface of this, if thou wilt hear. 'Twas I who nurtured thee; I love\nthee still; but in my search for medicine to cure thy sickness I found\nwhat least I sought. Had I but succeeded, I had been counted wise,\nfor the credit we get for wisdom is measured by our success.\nPHAEDRA Is it just, is it any satisfaction to me, that thou shouldst\nwound me first, then bandy words with me?\nNURSE We dwell on this too long; I was not wise, I own; but there\nare yet ways of escape from the trouble, my child.\nPHAEDRA Be dumb henceforth; evil was thy first advice to me, evil\ntoo thy attempted scheme. Begone and leave me, look to thyself; I\nwill my own fortunes for the best arrange. (The NURSE goes into the\npalace.) Ye noble daughters of Troezen, grant me the only boon I\ncrave; in silence bury what ye here have heard.\nLEADER By majestic Artemis, child of Zeus, I swear I will never divulge\naught of thy sorrows.\nPHAEDRA 'Tis well. But I, with all my thought, can but one way discover\nout of this calamity, that so I may secure my children's honour, and\nfind myself some help as matters stand. For never, never will I bring\nshame upon my Cretan home, nor will I, to save one poor life, face\nTheseus after my disgrace.\nLEADER Art thou bent then on some cureless woe?\nPHAEDRA On death; the means thereto must I devise myself.\nLEADER Hush!\nPHAEDRA Do thou at least advise me well. For this very day shall\nI gladden Cypris, my destroyer, by yielding up my life, and shall\nown myself vanquished by cruel love. Yet shall my dying be another's\ncurse, that he may learn not to exult at my misfortunes; but when\nhe comes to share the self-same plague with me, he will take a lesson\nin wisdom. (PHAEDRA enters the palace.)\nCHORUS (chanting, strophe 1)\nO to be nestling 'neath some pathless cavern, there by god's creating\nhand to grow into a bird amid the winged tribes! Away would I soar\nto Adria's wave-beat shore and to the waters of Eridanus; where a\nfather's hapless daughters in their grief for Phaethon distil into\nthe glooming flood the amber brilliance of their tears.\n(antistrophe 1)\nAnd to the apple-bearing strand of those minstrels in the west then\nwould come, where ocean's lord no more to sailors grants passage o'er\nthe deep dark main, finding there the heaven's holy bound, upheld\nby Atlas, where water from ambrosial founts wells up beside the couch\nof Zeus inside his halls, and holy earth, the bounteous mother, causes\njoy to spring in heavenly breasts.\n(strophe 2)\nO white-winged bark, that o'er the booming ocean-wave didst bring\nmy royal mistress from her happy home, to crown her queen 'mongst\nsorrow's brides! Surely evil omens from either port, at least from\nCrete, were with that ship, what time to glorious Athens it sped its\nway, and the crew made fast its twisted cable-ends upon the beach\nof Munychus, and on the land stept out.\n(antistrophe 2)\nWhence comes it that her heart is crushed, cruelly afflicted by Aphrodite\nwith unholy love; so she by bitter grief o'erwhelmed will tie a noose\nwithin her bridal bower to fit it to her fair white neck, to modest\nfor this hateful lot in life, prizing o'er all her name and fame,\nand striving thus to rid her soul of passion's sting. (The NURSE\nrushes out of the palace.)\nNURSE Help! ho! To the rescue all who near the palace stand! She\nhath hung herself, our queen, the wife of Theseus.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS Woe worth the day! the deed is done; our royal\nmistress is no more, dead she hangs in the dangling noose.\nNURSE Haste! some one bring a two-edged knife wherewith to cut the\nknot about her neck.\nFIRST SEMI-CHORUS Friends, what shall we do? think you we should\nenter the house, and loose the queen from the tight-drawn noose?\nSECOND SEMI-CHORUS Why should we? Are there not young servants here?\nTo do too much is not a safe course in life.\nNURSE Lay out the hapless corpse, straighten the limbs. This was\na bitter way to sit at home and keep my master's house! (She goes\nin.)\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS She is dead, poor lady; 'tis this I hear. Already\nare they laying out the corpse. (THESEUS and his retinue have entered,\nunnoticed.)\nTHESEUS Women, can ye tell me what the uproar in the palace means?\nThere came the sound of servants weeping bitterly to mine ear. None\nof my household deign to open wide the gates and give me glad welcome\nas traveller from prophetic shrines. Hath aught befallen old Pittheus?\nNo, Though he be well advanced in years, yet should I mourn, were\nhe to quit this house.\nLEADER 'Tis not against the old, Theseus, that fate, to strike thee,\naims this blow; prepare thy sorrow for a younger corpse.\nTHESEUS Woe is me! is it a child's life death robs me of?\nLEADER They live; but, cruellest news of all for thee, their mother\nis no more.\nTHESEUS What! my wife dead? By what cruel stroke of chance?\nLEADER About her neck she tied the hangman's knot.\nTHESEUS Had grief so chilled her blood? or what had befallen her?\nLEADER I know but this, for I am myself but now arrived at the house\nto mourn thy sorrows, O Theseus.\nTHESEUS Woe is me! why have I crowned my head with woven garlands,\nwhen misfortune greets my embassage? Unbolt the doors, servants, loose\ntheir fastenings, that I may see the piteous sight, my wife, whose\ndeath is death to me. (The central doors of the palace open, disclosing\nthe corpse.) Woe! woe is thee for thy piteous lot! thou hast done\nthyself a hurt deep enough to overthrow this family. Ah! ah! the daring\nof it done to death by violence and unnatural means, the desperate\neffort of thy own poor hand! Who cast the shadow o'er thy life, poor\nlady?\nTHESEUS (chanting) Ah me, my cruel lot! sorrow hath done her worst\non me. O fortune, how heavily hast thou set thy foot on me and on\nmy house, by fiendish hands inflicting an unexpected stain? Nay, 'tis\ncomplete effacement of my life, making it not to be lived; for I see,\nalas! so wide an ocean of grief that I can never swim to shore again,\nnor breast the tide of this calamity. How shall I speak of thee, my\npoor wife, what tale of direst suffering tell? Thou art vanished like\na bird from the covert of my hand, taking one headlong leap from me\nto Hades' halls. Alas, and woe! this is a bitter, bitter sight! This\nmust be a judgment sent by God for the sins of an ancestor, which\nfrom some far source I am bringing on myself.\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS My prince, 'tis not to thee alone such sorrows\ncome; thou hast lost a noble wife, but so have many others.\nTHESEUS (chanting) Fain would I go hide me 'neath earth's blackest\ndepth, to dwell in darkness with the dead in misery, now that I am\nreft of thy dear presence! for thou hast slain me than thyself e'en\nmore. Who can tell me what caused the fatal stroke that reached thy\nheart, dear wife? Will no one tell me what befell? doth my palace\nall in vain give shelter to a herd of menials? Woe, woe for thee,\nmy wife! sorrows past speech, past bearing, I behold within my house;\nmyself ruined man, my home a solitude, my children orphans!\nCHORUS (chanting) Gone and left us hast thou, fondest wife and noblest\nof all women 'neath the sun's bright eye or night's star-lit radiance.\nPoor house, what sorrows are thy portion now! My eyes are wet with\nstreams of tears to see thy fate; but the ill that is to follow has\nlong with terror filled me.\nTHESEUS Ha! what means this letter? clasped in her dear hand it hath\nsome strange tale to tell. Hath she, poor lady, as a last request,\nwritten her bidding as to my marriage and her children? Take heart,\npoor ghost; no wife henceforth shall wed thy Theseus or invade his\nhouse. Ah! how yon en ring affects my sight! Come, I will unfold the\nsealed packet and read her letter's message to me.\nCHORUS (chanting) Woe unto us! Here is yet another evil in the train\nby heaven sent. Looking to what has happened, I should count my lot\nin life no longer worth one's while to gain. My master's house, alas!\nis ruined, brought to naught, I say. Spare it, O Heaven, if it may\nbe. Hearken to my prayer, for I see, as with prophetic eye, an omen\nboding ill.\nTHESEUS O horror! woe on woe! and still they come, too deep for words,\nto heavy to bear. Ah me!\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS What is it? speak, if I may share in it.\nTHESEUS (chanting) This letter loudly tells a hideous tale! where\ncan I escape my load of woe? For I am ruined and undone, so awful\nare the words I find here written clear as if she cried them to me;\nwoe is me!\nLEADER Alas! thy words declare themselves the harbingers of woe.\nTHESEUS I can no longer keep the cursed tale within the portal of\nmy lips, cruel though its utterance be. Ah me! Hippolytus hath dared\nby brutal force to violate my honour, recking naught of Zeus, whose\nawful eye is over all. O father Poseidon, once didst thou promise\nto fulfil three prayers of mine; answer one of these and slay my son,\nlet him not escape this single day, if the prayers thou gavest me\nwere indeed with issue fraught.\nLEADER O king, I do conjure thee, call back that prayer; hereafter\nthou wilt know thy error. Hear, I pray.\nTHESEUS It cannot be! Moreover I will banish him from this land,\nand by one of two fates shall he be struck down; either Poseidon,\nout of respect to my prayer, will cast his dead body into the house\nof Hades; or exiled from this land, a wanderer to some foreign shore,\nshall he eke out a life of misery.\nLEADER Lo! where himself doth come, thy son Hippolytus, in good time;\ndismiss thy hurtful rage, King Theseus, and bethink thee what is best\nfor thy house, (HIPPOLYTUS enters.)\nHIPPOLYTUS I heard thy voice, father, and hasted to come hither;\nyet know I not the cause of thy present sorrow, but would fain learn\nof thee. (He sees PHAEDRA'S body.) Ha! what is this? thy wife is\ndead? 'Tis very strange; it was but now I left her; a moment since\nshe looked upon the light. How came she thus? the manner of her death?\nthis would I learn of thee, father. Art dumb? silence availeth not\nin trouble; nay, for the heart that fain would know all must show\nits curiosity even in sorrow's hour. Be sure it is not right, father,\nto hide misfortunes from those who love, ay, more than love thee.\nTHESEUS O ye sons of men, victims of a thousand idle errors, why\nteach your countless crafts, why scheme and seek to find a way for\neverything, while one thing ye know not nor ever yet have made your\nprize, a way to teach them wisdom whose souls are void of sense?\nHIPPOLYTUS A very master in his craft the man, who can force fools\nto be wise! But these ill-timed subtleties of thine, father, make\nme fear thy tongue is running wild through trouble.\nTHESEUS Fie upon thee! man needs should have some certain test set\nup to try his friends, some touchstone of their hearts, to know each\nfriend whether he be true or false; all men should have two voices,\none the voice of honesty, expediency's the other, so would honesty\nconfute its knavish opposite, and then we could not be deceived.\nHIPPOLYTUS Say, hath some friend been slandering me and hath he still\nthine ear? and I, though guiltless, banned? I am amazed, for thy random,\nfrantic words fill me with wild alarm.\nTHESEUS O the mind of mortal man! to what lengths will it proceed?\nWhat limit will its bold assurance have? for if it goes on growing\nas man's life advances, and each successor outdo the man before him\nin villainy, the gods will have to add another sphere unto the world,\nwhich shall take in the knaves and villians. Behold this man; he,\nmy own son, hath outraged mine honour, his guilt most clearly proved\nby my dead wife. Now, since thou hast dared this loathly crime, come,\nlook thy father in the face. Art thou the man who dost with gods consort,\nas one above the vulgar herd? art thou the chaste and sinless saint?\nThy boasts will never persuade me to be guilty of attributing ignorance\nto gods. Go then, vaunt thyself, and drive thy petty trade in viands\nformed of lifeless food; take Orpheus for thy chief and go a-revelling,\nwith all honour for the vapourings of many a written scroll, seeing\nthou now art caught. Let all beware, I say, of such hypocrites! who\nhunt their prey with fine words, and all the while are scheming villainy.\nShe is dead; dost think that this will save thee? Why this convicts\nthee more than all, abandoned wretch! What oaths, what pleas can outweigh\nthis letter, so that thou shouldst 'scape thy doom? Thou wilt assert\nshe hated thee, that 'twixt the bastard and the true-born child nature\nhas herself put war; it seems then by thy showing she made a sorry\nbargain with her life, if to gratify her hate of thee she lost what\nmost she prized. 'Tis said, no doubt, that frailty finds no place\nin man but is innate in woman; my experience is, young men are no\nmore secure than women, whenso the Queen of Love excites a youthful\nbreast; although their sex comes in to help them. Yet why do I thus\nbandy words with thee, when before me lies the corpse, to be the clearest\nwitness? Begone at once, an exile from this land, and ne'er set foot\nagain in god-built Athens nor in the confines of my dominion. For\nif I am tamely to submit to this treatment from such as thee, no more\nwill Sinis, robber of the Isthmus, bear me witness how I slew him,\nbut say my boasts are idle, nor will those rocks Scironian, that fringe\nthe sea, call me the miscreants' scourge.\nLEADER I know not how to call happy any child of man; for that which\nwas first has turned and now is last.\nHIPPOLYTUS Father, thy wrath and the tension of thy mind are terrible;\nyet this charge, specious though its arguments appear, becomes a calumny,\nif one lay it bare. Small skill have I in speaking to a crowd, but\nhave a readier wit for comrades of mine own age and small companies.\nYea, and this is as it should be; for they, whom the wise despise,\nare better qualified to speak before a mob. Yet am I constrained under\nthe present circumstances to break silence. And at the outset will\nI take the point which formed the basis of thy stealthy attack on\nme, designed to put me out of court unheard; dost see yon sun, this\nearth? These do not contain, for all thou dost deny it, chastity surpassing\nmine. To reverence God I count the highest knowledge, and to adopt\nas friends not those who attempt injustice, but such as would blush\nto propose to their companions aught disgraceful or pleasure them\nby shameful services; to mock at friends is not my way, father, but\nI am still the same behind their backs as to their face. The very\ncrime thou thinkest to catch me in, is just the one I am untainted\nwith, for to this day have I kept me pure from women. Nor know I aught\nthereof, save what I hear or see in pictures, for I have no wish to\nlook even on these, so pure my virgin soul. I grant my claim to chastity\nmay not convince thee; well, 'tis then for thee to show the way I\nwas corrupted. Did this woman exceed in beauty all her sex? Did aspire\nto fill the husband's place after thee and succeed to thy house? That\nsurely would have made me out a fool, a creature void of sense. Thou\nwilt say, \"Your chaste man loves to lord it.\" No, no! say I, sovereignty\npleases only those whose hearts are quite corrupt. Now, I would be\nthe first and best at all the games in Hellas, but second in the state,\nfor ever happy thus with the noblest for my friends. For there one\nmay be happy, and the absence of danger gives a charm beyond all princely\njoys. One thing I have not said, the rest thou hast. Had I a witness\nto attest my purity, and were I pitted 'gainst her still alive, facts\nwould show thee on enquiry who the culprit was. Now by Zeus, the god\nof oaths, and by the earth, whereon we stand, I swear to thee I never\ndid lay hand upon thy wife nor would have wished to, or have harboured\nsuch a thought. Slay me, ye gods! rob me of name and honour, from\nhome and city cast me forth, a wandering exile o'er the earth! nor\nsea nor land receive my bones when I am dead, if I am such a miscreant!\nI cannot say if she through fear destroyed herself, for more than\nthis am I forbid. With her discretion took the place of chastity,\nwhile I, though chaste, was not discreet in using this virtue.\nLEADER Thy oath by heaven, strong security, sufficiently refutes\nthe charge.\nTHESEUS A wizard or magician must the fellow be, to think he can\nfirst flout me, his father, then by coolness master my resolve.\nHIPPOLYTUS Father, thy part in this doth fill me with amaze; wert\nthou my son and I thy sire, by heaven! I would have slain, not let\nthee off with banishment, hadst thou presumed to violate my honour.\nTHESEUS A just remark! yet shalt thou not die by the sentence thine\nown lips pronounce upon thyself; for death, that cometh in a moment,\nis an easy end for wretchedness. Nay, thou shalt be exiled from thy\nfatherland, and wandering to a foreign shore drag out a life of misery,\nfor such are the wages of sin.\nHIPPOLYTUS Oh! what wilt thou do? Wilt thou banish me, without so\nmuch as waiting for Time's evidence on my case?\nTHESEUS Ay, beyond the sea, beyond the bounds of Atlas, if I could,\nso deeply do I hate thee.\nHIPPOLYTUS What! banish me untried, without even testing my oath,\nthe pledge offer, or the voice of seers?\nTHESEUS This letter here, though it bears no seers' signs, arraigns\nthy pledges; as for birds that fly o'er our heads, a long farewell\nto them.\nHIPPOLYTUS (aside) Great gods! why do I not unlock my lips, seeing\nthat I am ruined by you, the objects of my reverence? No, I will not;\nI should nowise persuade those whom I ought to, and in vain should\nbreak the oath I swore.\nTHESEUS Fie upon thee! that solemn air of thine is more than I can\nbear. Begone from thy native land forthwith!\nHIPPOLYTUS Whither shall I turn? Ah me! whose friendly house will\ntake me in, an exile on so grave, a charge?\nTHESEUS Seek one who loves to entertain as guests and partners in\nhis crimes corrupters of men's wives.\nHIPPOLYTUS Ah me! this wounds my heart and brings me nigh to tears\nto think that I should appear so vile, and thou believe me so.\nTHESEUS Thy tears and forethought had been more in season when thou\ndidst presume to outrage thy father's wife.\nHIPPOLYTUS O house, I would thou couldst speak for me and witness\nif I am so vile!\nTHESEUS Dost fly to speechless witnesses? This deed, though it speaketh\nnot, proves thy guilt clearly.\nHIPPOLYTUS Alas! Would I could stand and face myself, so should I\nweep to see the sorrows I endure.\nTHESEUS Ay, 'tis thy character to honour thyself far more than reverence\nthy parents, as thou shouldst.\nHIPPOLYTUS Unhappy mother! son of sorrow! Heaven keep all friends\nof mine from bastard birth!\nTHESEUS Ho! servants, drag him hence! You heard my proclamation long\nago condemning him to exile.\nHIPPOLYTUS Whoso of them doth lay a hand on me shall rue it; thyself\nexpel me, if thy spirit move thee, from the land.\nTHESEUS I will, unless my word thou straight obey; no pity for thy\nexile steals into my heart. (THESEUS goes in. The central doors of\nthe palace are closed.)\nHIPPOLYTUS The sentence then, it seems, is passed. Ah, misery! How\nwell I know the truth herein, but know no way to tell it! O daughter\nof Latona, dearest to me of all deities, partner, comrade in the chase,\nfar from glorious Athens must I fly. Farewell, city and land of Erechtheus;\nfarewell, Troezen, most joyous home wherein to pass the spring of\nlife; 'tis my last sight of thee, farewell! Come, my comrades in this\nland, young like me, greet me kindly and escort me forth, for never\nwill ye behold a purer soul, for all my father's doubts. (HIPPOLYTUS\ndeparts. Many follow him.)\nCHORUS (singing, strophe 1)\nIn very deed the thoughts I have about the gods, whenso they come\ninto my mind, do much to soothe its grief, but though I cherish secret\nhopes of some great guiding will, yet am I at fault when survey the\nfate and doings of the sons of men; change succeeds to change, and\nman's life veers and shifts in endless restlessness.\n(antistrophe 1)\nFortune grant me this, I pray, at heaven's hand,-a happy lot in life\nand a soul from sorrow free; opinions let me hold not too precise\nnor yet too hollow; but, lightly changing my habits to each morrow\nas it comes, may I thus attain a life of bliss!\n(strophe 2)\nFor now no more is my mind free from doubts, unlooked-for sights\ngreet my vision; for lo! I see the morning star of Athens, eye of\nHellas, driven by his father's fury to another land. Mourn, ye sands\nof my native shores, ye oak-groves on the hills, where with his fleet\nhounds he would hunt the quarry to the death, attending on Dictynna,\nawful queen.\n(antistrophe 2)\nNo more will he mount his car drawn by Venetian steeds, filling the\ncourse round Limna with the prancing of his trained horses. Nevermore\nin his father's house shall he wake the Muse that never slept beneath\nhis lute-strings; no hand will crown the spots where rests the maiden\nLatona 'mid the boskage deep; nor evermore shall our virgins vie to\nwin thy love, now thou art banished.\n(epode)\nWhile I with tears at thy unhappy fate shall endure a lot all undeserved.\nAh! hapless mother, in vain didst thou bring forth, it seems. I am\nangered with the gods; out upon them! O ye linked Graces, why are\nye sending from his native land this poor youth, guiltless sufferer,\nfar from his home?\nLEADER OF THE CHORUS But lo! I see a servant of Hippolytus hasting\nwith troubled looks towards the palace. (A MESSENGER enters.)\nMESSENGER Ladies, where may I find Theseus, king of the country?\npray, tell me if ye know; is he within the palace here?\nLEADER Lo! himself approaches from the palace. (THESEUS enters.)\nMESSENGER Theseus, I am the bearer of troublous tidings to thee and\nall citizens who dwell in Athens or the bounds of Troezen.\nTHESEUS How now? hath some strange calamity o'ertaken these two neighbouring\ncities?\nMESSENGER In one brief word, Hippolytus is dead. 'Tis true one slender\nthread still links him to the light of life.\nTHESEUS Who slew him? Did some husband come to blows with him, one\nwhose wife, like mine, had suffered brutal violence?\nMESSENGER He perished through those steeds that drew his chariot\nand through the curses thou didst utter, praying to thy sire, the\nocean-king, to slay thy son.\nTHESEUS Ye gods and king Poseidon, thou hast proved my parentage\nby hearkening to my prayer! Say how he perished; how fell the uplifted\nhand of justice to smite the villain who dishonoured me?\nMESSENGER Hard by the wave-beat shore were we combing out his horses'\nmanes, weeping the while, for one had come to say that Hippolytus\nwas harshly exiled by thee and nevermore would return to set foot\nin this land. Then came he, telling the same doleful tale to us upon\nthe beach, and with him was a countless throng of friends who followed\nafter. At length he stayed his lamentation and spake: \"Why weakly\nrave on this wise? My father's commands must be obeyed. Ho! servants,\nharness my horses to the chariot; this is no longer now city of mine.\"\nThereupon each one of us bestirred himself, and, ere a man could say\n'twas done, we had the horses standing ready at our master's side.\nThen he caught up the reins from the chariot-rail, first fitting his\nfeet exactly in the hollows made for them. But first with outspread\npalms he called upon the gods, \"O Zeus, now strike me dead, if I have\nsinned, and let my father learn how he is wronging me, in death at\nleast, if not in life.\" Therewith he seized the whip and lashed each\nhorse in turn; while we, close by his chariot, near the reins, kept\nup with him along the road that leads direct to Argos and Epidaurus.\nAnd just as we were coming to a desert spot, a strip of sand beyond\nthe borders of this country, sloping right to the Saronic gulf, there\nissued thence a deep rumbling sound, as it were an earthquake, fearsome\nnoise, and the horses reared their heads and pricked their ears, while\nwe were filled with wild alarm to know whence came the sound; when,\nas we gazed toward the wave-beat shore, a wave tremendous we beheld\ntowering to the skies, so that from our view the cliffs of Sciron\nvanished, for it hid the isthmus and the rock of Asclepius; then swelling\nand frothing with a crest of foam, the sea discharged it toward the\nbeach where stood the harnessed car, and in the moment that it broke,\nthat mighty wall of waters, there issued from the wave a monstrous\nbull, whose bellowing filled the land with fearsome echoes, a sight\ntoo awful as it seemed to us who witnessed it. A panic seized the\nhorses there and then, but our master, to horses' ways quite used,\ngripped in both hands his reins, and tying them to his body pulled\nthem backward as the sailor pulls his oar; but the horses gnashed\nthe forged bits between their teeth and bore him wildly on, regardless\nof their master's guiding hand or rein or jointed car. And oft as\nhe would take the guiding rein and steer for softer ground, showed\nthat bull in front to turn him back again, maddening his team with\nterror; but if in their frantic career they ran towards the rocks,\nhe would draw nigh the chariot-rail, keeping up with them, until,\nsuddenly dashing the wheel against a stone, he upset and wrecked the\ncar; then was dire confusion, axle-boxes and linchpins springing into\nthe air. While he, poor youth, entangled in the reins was dragged\nalong, bound by a stubborn knot, his poor head dashed against the\nrocks, his flesh all torn, the while he cried out piteously, \"Stay,\nstay, my horses whom my own hand hath fed at the manger, destroy me\nnot utterly. O luckless curse of a father! Will no one come and save\nme for all my virtue?\" Now we, though much we longed to help, were\nleft far behind. At last, I know not how, he broke loose from the\nshapely reins that bound him, a faint breath of life still in him;\nbut the horses disappeared, and that portentous bull, among the rocky\nground, I know not where. I am but a slave in thy house, 'tis true,\nO king, yet will I never believe so monstrous a charge against thy\nson's character, no! not though the whole race of womankind should\nhang itself, or one should fill with writing every pine-tree tablet\ngrown on Ida, sure as I am of his uprightness.\nLEADER Alas! new troubles come to plague us, nor is there any escape\nfrom fate and necessity.\nTHESEUS My hatred for him who hath thus suffered made me glad at\nthy tidings, yet from regard for the gods and him, because he is my\nson, I feel neither joy nor sorrow at his sufferings.\nMESSENGER But say, are we to bring the victim hither, or how are\nwe to fulfil thy wishes? Bethink thee; if by me thou wilt be schooled,\nthou wilt not harshly treat thy son in his sad plight.\nTHESEUS Bring him hither, that when I see him face to face, who hath\ndenied having polluted my wife's honour, I may by words and heaven's\nvisitation convict him. (The MESSENGER departs.)\nCHORUS (singing) Ah! Cypris, thine the hand that guides the stubborn\nhearts of gods and men; thine, and that attendant boy's, who, with\npainted plumage gay, flutters round his victims on lightning wing.\nO'er the land and booming deep on golden pinion borne flits the god\nof Love, maddening the heart and beguiling the senses of all whom\nhe attacks, savage whelps on mountains bred, ocean's monsters, creatures\nof this sun-warmed earth, and man; thine, O Cypris, thine alone the\nsovereign power to rule them all. (ARTEMIS appears above.)\nARTEMIS (chanting) Hearken, I bid thee, noble son of Aegeus: lo!\n'tis I, Latona's child, that speak, I, Artemis. Why, Theseus, to thy\nsorrow dost thou rejoice at these tidings, seeing that thou hast slain\nthy son most impiously, listening to a charge not clearly proved,\nbut falsely sworn to by thy wife? though clearly has the curse therefrom\nupon thee fallen. Why dost thou not for very shame hide beneath the\ndark places of the earth, or change thy human life and soar on wings\nto escape this tribulation? 'Mongst men of honour thou hast now no\nshare in life. (She now speaks.) Hearken, Theseus; I will put thy\nwretched case. Yet will it naught avail thee, if I do, but vex thy\nheart; still with this intent I came, to show thy son's pure heart,-that\nhe may die with honour,-as well the frenzy and, in a sense, the nobleness\nof thy wife; for she was cruelly stung with a passion for thy son\nby that goddess whom all we, that joy in virgin purity, detest. And\nthough she strove to conquer love by resolution, yet by no fault of\nhers she fell, thanks to her nurse's strategy, who did reveal her\nmalady unto thy son under oath. But he would none of her counsels,\nas indeed was right, nor yet, when thou didst revile him, would he\nbreak the oath he swore, from piety. She meantime, fearful of being\nfound out, wrote a lying letter, destroying by guile thy son, but\nyet persuading thee.\nTHESEUS Woe is me!\nARTEMIS Doth my story wound thee, Theseus? Be still awhile; hear\nwhat follows, so wilt thou have more cause to groan. Dost remember\nthose three prayers thy father granted thee, fraught with certain\nissue? 'Tis one of these thou hast misused, unnatural wretch, against\nthy son, instead of aiming it at an enemy. Thy sea-god sire, 'tis\ntrue, for all his kind intent, hath granted that boon he was compelled,\nby reason of his promise, to grant. But thou alike in his eyes and\nin mine hast shewn thy evil heart, in that thou hast forestalled all\nproof or voice prophetic, hast made no inquiry, nor taken time for\nconsideration, but with undue haste cursed thy son even to the death.\nTHESEUS Perdition seize me! Queen revered!\nARTEMIS An awful deed was thine, but still even for this thou mayest\nobtain pardon; for it was Cypris that would have it so, sating the\nfury of her soul. For this is law amongst us gods; none of us will\nthwart his neighbour's will, but ever we stand aloof. For be well\nassured, did I not fear Zeus, never would I have incurred the bitter\nshame of handing over to death a man of all his kind to me most dear.\nAs for thy sin, first thy ignorance absolves thee from its villainy,\nnext thy wife, who is dead, was lavish in her use of convincing arguments\nto influence thy mind. On thee in chief this storm of woe hath burst,\nyet is it some grief to me as well; for when the righteous die, there\nis no joy in heaven, albeit we try to destroy the wicked, house and\nhome.\nCHORUS (chanting) Lo! where he comes, this hapless youth, his fair\nyoung flesh and auburn locks most shamefully handled. Unhappy house!\nwhat two-fold sorrow doth o'ertake its halls, through heaven's ordinance!\n(HIPPOLYTUS enters, assisted by his attendants.)\nHIPPOLYTUS (chanting) Ah! ah! woe is me! foully undone by an impious\nfather's impious imprecation! Undone, undone! woe is me! Through my\nhead dart fearful pains; my brain throbs convulsively. Stop, let me\nrest my worn-out frame. Oh, oh! Accursed steeds, that mine own hand\ndid feed, ye have been my ruin and my death. O by the gods, good sirs,\nbeseech ye, softly touch my wounded limbs. Who stands there at my\nright side? Lift me tenderly; with slow and even step conduct a poor\nwretch cursed by his mistaken sire. Great Zeus, dost thou see this?\nMe thy reverent worshipper, me who left all men behind in purity,\nplunged thus into yawning Hades 'neath the earth, reft of life; in\nvain the toils I have endured through my piety towards mankind. Ah\nme! ah me! O the thrill of anguish shooting through me! Set me down,\npoor wretch I am; come Death to set me free! Kill me, end my sufferings.\nO for a sword two-edged to hack my flesh, and close this mortal life!\nIll-fated curse of my father! the crimes of bloody kinsmen, ancestors\nof old, now pass their boundaries and tarry not, and upon me are they\ncome all guiltless as I am; ah! why? Alas, alas! what can I say? How\nfrom my life get rid of this relentless agony? O that the stern Death-god,\nnight's black visitant, would give my sufferings rest!\nARTEMIS Poor sufferer! cruel the fate that links thee to it! Thy\nnoble soul hath been thy ruin.\nHIPPOLYTUS Ah! the fragrance from my goddess wafted! Even in my agony\nI feel thee near and find relief; she is here in this very place,\nmy goddess Artemis.\nARTEMIS She is, poor sufferer! the goddess thou hast loved the best.\nHIPPOLYTUS Dost see me, mistress mine? dost see my present suffering?\nARTEMIS I see thee, but mine eyes no tear may weep.\nHIPPOLYTUS Thou hast none now to lead the hunt or tend thy fane.\nARTEMIS None now; yet e'en in death I love thee still.\nHIPPOLYTUS None to groom thy steeds, or guard thy shrines.\nARTEMIS 'Twas Cypris, mistress of iniquity, devised this evil.\nHIPPOLYTUS Ah me! now know I the goddess who destroyed me.\nARTEMIS She was jealous of her slighted honour, vexed at thy chaste\nlife.\nHIPPOLYTUS Ah! then I see her single hand hath struck down three\nof us.\nARTEMIS Thy sire and thee, and last thy father's wife.\nHIPPOLYTUS My sire's ill-luck as well as mine I mourn.\nARTEMIS He was deceived by a goddess's design.\nHIPPOLYTUS Woe is thee, my father, in this sad mischance!\nTHESEUS My son, I am a ruined man; life has no joys for me.\nHIPPOLYTUS For this mistake I mourn thee rather than myself.\nTHESEUS O that I had died for thee, my son!\nHIPPOLYTUS Ah! those fatal gifts thy sire Poseidon gave.\nTHESEUS Would God these lips had never uttered that prayer!\nHIPPOLYTUS Why not? thou wouldst in any case have slain me in thy\nfury then.\nTHESEUS Yes; Heaven had perverted my power to think.\nHIPPOLYTUS O that the race of men could bring a curse upon the gods!\nARTEMIS Enough! for though thou pass to gloom beneath the earth,\nthe wrath of Cypris shall not, at her will, fall on thee unrequited,\nbecause thout hadst a noble righteous soul. For I with mine own hand\nwill with these unerring shafts avenge me on another, who is her votary,\ndearest to her of all the sons of men. And to thee, poor sufferer,\nfor thy anguish now will grant high honours in the city of Troezen;\nfor thee shall maids unwed before their marriage cut off their hair,\nthy harvest through the long roll of time of countless bitter tears.\nYea, and for ever shall the virgin choir hymn thy sad memory, nor\nshall Phaedra's love for thee fall into oblivion and pass away unnoticed.\nBut thou, O son of old Aegeus, take thy son in thine arms, draw him\nclose to thee, for unwittingly thou slewest him, and men may well\ncommit an error when gods put it in their way. And thee Hippolytus,\nI admonish; hate not thy sire, for in this death thou dost but meet\nthy destined fate. And now farewell! 'tis not for me to gaze upon\nthe dead, or pollute my sight with death-scenes, and e'en now I see\nthee nigh that evil. (ARTEMIS vanishes.)\nHIPPOLYTUS Farewell, blest virgin queen! leave me now! Easily thou\nresignest our long friendship! I am reconciled with my father at thy\ndesire, yea, for ever before I would obey thy bidding. Ah me! the\ndarkness is settling even now upon my eyes. Take me, father, in thy\narms, lift me up.\nTHESEUS Woe is me, my son! what art thou doing to me thy hapless\nsire!\nHIPPOLYTUS I am a broken man; yes, I see the gates that close upon\nthe dead.\nTHESEUS Canst leave me thus with murder on my soul!\nHIPPOLYTUS No, no; I set thee free from this bloodguiltiness.\nTHESEUS What sayest thou? dost absolve me from bloodshed?\nHIPPOLYTUS Artemis, the archer-queen, is my witness that I do.\nTHESEUS My own dear child, how generous dost thou show thyself to\nthy father!\nHIPPOLYTUS Farewell, dear father! a long farewell to thee!\nTHESEUS O that holy, noble soul of thine!\nHIPPOLYTUS Pray to have children such as me born in lawful wedlock.\nTHESEUS O leave me not, my son; endure awhile.\nHIPPOLYTUS 'Tis finished, my endurance; I die, father; quickly veil\nmy face with a mantle.\nTHESEUS O glorious Athens, realm of Pallas, what a splendid hero\nye have lost! Ah me, ah me! How oft shall I remember thy evil works,\nP Cypris!\nCHORUS (singing) On all our citizens hath come this universal sorrow,\nunforeseen. Now shall the copious tear gush forth, for sad news about\ngreat men takes more than usual hold upon the heart.\nTHE END","title":"Hippolytus, By Euripides","type":"page"}