You
yourself
can bring the past the mind, too,
It was not enough to avoid you: I exiled you.
It was not enough to avoid you: I exiled you.
Racine - Phaedra
Aricia
So it's not, Ismene, some ill-founded rumour? 375
I have no enemies: I'm a slave no longer?
Ismene
No, my lady, the gods no longer oppose it,
And Theseus goes to meet your brothers' spirits.
Aricia
Do they say what action has ended his days?
Ismene
Unbelievable tales of his ending circulate 380
They say that the waves have swallowed the faithless:
A husband, yet abductor of some fresh mistress.
They even say, and this rumour's widely spread,
That, with Pirithous, he went down among the dead,
Saw the Cocytus, and the shores of darkness, 385
Showed himself alive to infernal shades, no less:
But could not escape from that gloomy sojourn,
And re-cross the border we pass without return.
Aricia
Am I to believe a man, prior to his dying breath,
Could penetrate to the deep house of the dead? 390
What spell drew him to that formidable shore?
Ismene
You alone doubt, Madame: Theseus is no more:
Athens laments it, Troezen knows of it,
And has recognised Hippolytus already.
Phaedra, in the palace, trembles for her son's life, 395
From all her anxious friends she demands advice.
Aricia
And you think Hippolytus, kinder than his father,
Being more humane, will make my chains lighter?
That he'll pity my troubles?
Ismene
Madame, I think so.
Aricia
Is unfeeling Hippolytus known to you though? 400
What shallow hope makes you think he'll pity me,
And respect a sex he treats disdainfully?
You see he's evaded us for some time now,
And seeks the places where we never go.
Ismene
I know all that they say about his coldness: 405
But I've seen proud Hippolytus in your presence:
And, even as I watched, the rumours of his pride
Redoubled my curiosity, I find.
His reality didn't quite match the rumour:
At your first glances I found him someone other. 410
His eyes, that wished in vain to evade you,
Already, filled with yearning, could not leave you.
A lover's name perhaps would slight his courage:
But he has the eyes of one, if not the language.
Aricia
Dear Ismene, my heart hears it so eagerly, 415
Your speech that owes so little to reality!
O you who know me does it seem believable
That the sad plaything of a fate so pitiable,
A heart fed always on tears and bitterness,
Could still know love, and its sad foolishness? 420
Born of a king, a noble prince of this world,
I alone escaped the furious wars unfurled.
I lost six brothers in the flower of their youth,
And the hopes of an illustrious house in truth!
The sword took them all: and the clinging mud, 425
Drank with regret Erectheus' nephews' blood.
You know, since their death, what law's severity
Forbade any of those Greeks to sigh for me:
They fear lest the sister's reckless passions
Will one day re-animate the brothers' ashes. 430
But you also know with what a scornful air
I regarded the suspicious conqueror's care.
You know that, ever resistant to all lust,
I often gave thanks to Theseus the unjust,
Whose fine severity supported my contempt. 435
Yet my eyes, my eyes had not seen his son yet.
Not through the eyes alone, shamefully enchanted,
Do I love the beauty of him, his grace so vaunted,
Gifts with which nature wished to honour him,
Which he himself disdains, ignores it seems. 440
I love I find, in him, the noblest riches,
His father's virtues, and not his weaknesses.
I love, I must confess, that generous pride,
Which has never bent beneath a yoke of sighs.
Phaedra was honoured by Theseus' breath in vain, 445
For myself, I'm prouder, and flee the glory gained
From homage offered to hundreds, and so easily,
From entering a heart thrown open to so many.
But to make an unyielding courage bend,
To make that unfeeling heart of his feel pain, 450
To fetter a captive astonished by his chains,
Fighting the yoke, that delights him so, in vain:
That's what I wish, that is what excites me.
To disarm Hippolytus counts for more than Hercules:
Often vanquished, and defeated more swiftly, 455
To the eyes that tamed him offering less glory.
But, alas, dear Ismene! How daring I am!
I'll be blocked indeed by profound resistance.
Perhaps you'll hear me, humbled then, in pain,
Lamenting that same pride I admire today. 460
Hippolyte might love? By what great happiness
Might I have altered. . .
Ismene
You'll hear him, himself, mistress:
He is coming to you.
Act II Scene II (Hippolytus, Aricia, Ismene)
Hippolyte
Madame, before I leave,
I thought to advise you what your fate shall be.
My father no longer lives. My true prescience 465
Anticipated the cause of his long absence:
Death alone, limiting his brilliant efforts,
Could hide him so long from the universe.
At last the gods delivered the friend, the comrade,
The heir of Hercules to the murderous Fates. 470
I imagine your hatred, denying him his virtue,
Without regret, hears all those names he's due.
Yet one hope now softens my mortal sadness:
That I might free you from a guardian's harshness,
I revoke laws whose rigour I deplored: you are 475
Free now to dispose of yourself, and your heart:
And in this Troezen, now my inheritance,
The legacy of my ancestor Pittheus once,
Which has made me king, unhesitatingly,
I set you free as well, freer than I can be. 480
Aricia
Moderate your kindness whose excess shames me.
By honouring my plight with care, so generously,
It binds me, my lord, more than you might see,
To those austere laws from which you free me.
Hippolyte
Athens, uncertain of its choice for the succession, 485
Speaks of you, names me, and also the Queen's son.
Aricia
Of me, my Lord?
Hippolyte
I don't deceive myself: I know
That its proud laws seem to reject me: even so
Greece reproaches me for my foreign mother.
But if the only competition were my brother, 490
Madame, over him I have essential claims,
That I could salvage from the law's domains.
A more legitimate curb arrests my boldness:
I cede to you, rather I return a title no less,
A sceptre your ancestors long ago received 495
From that famous mortal whom the earth conceived.
Adoption placed it in Aegeus' hands, there.
Athens, enriched, protected by my father,
Recognised, joyfully, a king so generous,
And sent your poor brothers to forgetfulness. 500
Athens now calls you back within her walls.
She's suffered long enough from those quarrels.
Too long has your blood, swallowed by its furrows,
Made that earth steam from which it first arose.
Troezen obeys me. The countryside of Crete 505
Offers the son of Phaedra a rich retreat.
Attica is yours. I leave now, and go too
To unite all our scattered votes for you.
Aricia
I'm astonished and confused by all I hear,
I fear lest a dream deceives me, yes I fear. 510
Am I awake? Can I believe in such a plan?
What god, my Lord, what god guides your hand?
How deserved your fame: they speak it everywhere!
And how much the truth exceeds what they declare!
You would sacrifice yourself in favour of me! 515
Is it not sufficient that you will not hate me?
And for so long were able to protect your soul
From that enmity. . .
Hippolyte
I hate you, Madame, how so?
Despite those colours in which they paint my pride,
Can they think a monster brought me to the light? 520
What savage manners, what hardened hatred
Would not, on seeing you, be wholly softened?
Could I have resisted the seductive charm. . .
Aricia
What? My Lord.
Hippolyte
I have let myself run on too far.
I see my reason has given way to violence. 525
Yet since I've now begun to break my silence,
Madame, I will continue: I'll speak again
Of a secret my heart can no longer contain.
A prince to be pitied is before your eyes,
A memorable example of reckless pride. 530
I who proudly revolted against all passion,
Have long scorned the chains of that lovers' prison:
As I deplored the shipwrecks of weak men,
Thinking that from the shore I'd always view them:
Now subjugated to the common law, 535
What turmoil bears me to a distant shore?
One moment conquered boldness so imprudent:
My soul, so proud, is finally dependant.
For more than six months, desperate, ashamed,
Bearing throughout the wound with which I'm maimed, 540
I steeled myself towards you, and myself, in vain:
Present, I flee you: absent, I find you again:
Your image follows me in the forest's night:
The shadows of darkness, and broad daylight,
Both bring to my eyes the charms that I avoid, 545
Both snare the rebel Hippolytus on every side.
This is the reward for my excessive care:
I search for my self: and yet find no one there.
My bow, my spears, my chariot all call me.
I cannot remember now what Neptune taught me. 550
My cries alone make the woodlands ring,
And the idle horses all forget my calling.
Perhaps the tale of so wild a love will make you
Blush, hearing me, at all your charms could do.
What shy entreaty for a heart in your hands! 555
What a strange prisoner for such lovely bonds!
But the offering should be dearer to your eyes.
I speak to you in a foreign tongue, ah, realise:
Do not reject these vows, so poorly expressed,
That but for you Hippolytus had not confessed. 560
Act II Scene III (Hippolytus, Aricia, Theramenes, Ismene)
Theramenes
The Queen is here my lord: I've arrived before her.
She's seeking you.
Hippolytus
Me?
Theramenes
Of her intent I'm unaware,
But her messenger came to speak on her behalf.
Phaedra wishes to see you before you depart.
Hippolytus
Phaedra? What might she wish? What will I tell her. . . 565
Aricia
You cannot refuse, my Lord, to listen to her.
Though only too convinced of her enmity,
You owe her tears some semblance of pity.
Hippolytus
Meanwhile you leave. And I go not knowing
Whether I've offended charms worth adoring. 570
Not knowing if the heart I leave in your hands. . .
Aricia
Go, Prince, and pursue your generous plans.
Make Athens tributary to my power.
I accept all those gifts you make my dower.
But that Empire, so grand, so glorious a prize, 575
Is not the dearest gift of all, to my eyes.
Act II Scene IV (Hippolytus, Theramenes)
Hippolytus
Is all ready, my friend? But, here is the Queen.
Go, so all is prepared now for us to leave.
Give the signals, course, orders: then, returning,
Free me swiftly from this unfortunate meeting. 580
Act II Scene V (Phaedra, Hippolytus, Oenone)
Phaedra (To Oenone. )
He is there. All my blood rises towards my heart.
Seeing him, I forget what I came to impart.
Oenone
Remember your son, whose only hope you are.
Phaedra
I hear that a swift departure takes you far
From us, my Lord. I come to join my tears to yours. 585
I come, on my son's behalf, to explain my fears.
My son is fatherless: the day's not long distant
That will make him a witness of my final moments.
Already thousands attack his vulnerability:
You alone can protect him from his enemies. 590
But now a secret regret agitates my mind.
I fear I have closed your ears to all his cries.
I tremble lest your just anger follow after,
Swiftly pursuing in him his hated mother.
Hippolyte
Madame, my feelings are not as base as that. 595
Phaedra
If you hated me, I would not complain of it,
My Lord. You thought me intent on doing harm:
But you could not read the depths of my heart.
I took care to expose myself to your hostility:
Could not endure your presence in my country. 600
I spoke against you in public, and privately,
I wished to be parted from you by the sea:
I even declared a law that forbade, expressly,
Any man to dare to speak your name to me.
Yet if one measures the offence by its pain, 605
If hatred alone inspires hatred again,
No woman was ever worthier of pity,
And less deserving, my Lord, of your enmity.
Hippolytus
A mother jealous of the rights of her children,
Seldom tolerates the son of another husband. 610
I know that, Madame. Constant suspicion
Is the most common fruit of a second union.
Every other would have taken like offence,
And I'd have suffered insults the more intense.
Phaedra
Oh! My Lord, I dare to say here that heaven, 615
In this case, wished to make me an exception!
A different matter troubles and consumes me!
Hippolyte
Madame, then you are troubled prematurely.
Perhaps your husband still sees the light of day:
With his return, heaven might those tears repay. 620
Neptune protects him: my father has never
Called in vain to his guardian god in prayer.
Phaedra
We cannot view the shores of the dead twice, my Lord.
Since Theseus has already seen those sombre shores,
The hope some god may send him back to you is vain, 625
And greedy Acheron never lets loose its prey.
What do I say? He's not dead: in you he breathes.
I always believe I see my husband before me.
I see, I speak to him, and my heart. . . forgive me,
My Lord, my fond passion speaks, in spite of me. 630
Hippolytus
I see the profound effect of your fondness.
Dead though he may be, you still see Theseus:
Your soul is forever inflamed with love of him.
Phaedra
Yes, Prince, I languish, and I burn for him.
I love him, not one whom hell has seen descend, 635
Fickle worshipper of a thousand diverse ends,
Who'd dishonour the bed of the god of the dead:
But the loyal, proud, even shy man, instead,
Charming, young: drawing after him all hearts.
Such as one depicts the gods: or as you are. 640
He shares your bearing, your eyes, your speech,
That noble modesty that stains his cheeks,
As when he sailed across our Cretan waters
Worthy to be desired by Minos' daughters.
What were you doing then? Why gather the heroes, 645
All the flower of Greece, without Hippolytus?
Why could you, still so young, not be aboard
The ships that brought him once to our shores?
The Cretan monster would have perished there,
At your hand, despite the toils of his vast lair. 650
To disentangle that confusing problem, too
My sister would have handed you the fatal clew.
No! I'd have been before her with that course,
Love would have swiftly inspired the thought.
I it is, Prince, I whose expert assistance 655
Would have taught you the windings of the Labyrinth.
With what care I would have cherished your dear head!
Your lover would not have been content with a thread.
A companion in the danger you had to go through,
I myself would have wished to walk ahead of you: 660
And Phaedra, plunging with you into the Labyrinth,
Would have returned with you, or herself have perished.
Hippolytus
You gods! What do I hear? Madame, do you forget
That Theseus is my father, your husband yet?
Phaedra
And what makes you think I forget his memory 665
Prince? Have I lost all care for my own glory?
Hippolytus
Madame, forgive me. I blush at my confession
I've wrongly judged an innocent expression.
My shame can no longer endure your vision:
And I go. . .
Phaedra
Ah! You've listened too long, cruel one. 670
I've told you enough for you to be undeceived.
Well! Contemplate Phaedra then in all her fury.
I love. But don't think at the moment of loving you
I find myself innocent in my own eyes, or approve,
Or that slack complacency has fed the poison, 675
Of this wild passion that troubles all my reason.
I, the wretched object of divine vengeance,
Loathe myself much more than you ever can.
The gods are my witnesses, those gods who placed
The fire in my breast, so fatal to all my race, 680
Those gods whose glory it is, always cruel,
To seduce the heart of a weak mortal.
You yourself can bring the past the mind, too,
It was not enough to avoid you: I exiled you.
I wished to seem odious, inhuman to you. 685
I sought your hate, the better to resist you.
How have those useless efforts brought success?
You hated me more: I did not love you less.
Your misfortune even lent you fresh dimension.
I languished, withered, in tears, and in passion. 690
You only needed eyes to be persuaded,
If your eyes had looked at me, not been dissuaded.
What? This confession that I so shamefully,
Make to you, do you think it voluntary?
Trembling for a son I did not dare betray, 695
To beg you not to hate him I come today.
Weak project of a heart too full of what it loves!
Alas! It is only yourself I have spoken of.
Take vengeance: punish me for loathed delight.
Worthy son of a hero who granted you light. 700
Deliver the world from a monster so odious.
Theseus' widow dares to love Hippolytus!
This dreadful monster won't escape: believe me.
Here's my heart. Here's where your hand should strike me.
Impatient already to expiate its offence, 705
To meet your arm I can feel it now advance.
Strike. Or if you think it not worthy of your blow,
If your hate refuses me such sweet torment, so,
Or if your hand by my vile blood would be stained,
Instead of your arm lend me then your blade. 710
Offer it.
Oenone
Madame, what would you do? Gods above!
Someone's here. Avoid hateful witnesses: remove:
Come, return home: flee now from certain shame.
Act II Scene VI (Hippolyte, Theramenes)
Theramenes
Is that Phaedra fleeing, or rather being led away?
Why, my Lord, why then all these signs of grief? 715
I see you without your sword, stunned, pale beyond belief.
Hippolytus
Theramenes, my astonishment's complete.
I can't view myself without horror. Let us leave.
Phaedra. . . No! You gods! In what deep oblivion
Must this appalling secret be entombed! 720
Theramenes
If you're ready to depart, the sails are rigged.
But Athens, my Lord, has already voted.
Her leaders have taken soundings of every man.
Your brother carried the day: Phaedra has won.
Hippolytus
Phaedra?
Theramenes
A herald charged with Athen's demands 725
Comes now, to place control of the state in her hands.
Her son is king, my Lord.
Hippolytus
You gods, who know her,
Is it for her virtues you now reward her?
Theramenes
Meanwhile vague rumours say the king still lives.
They claim that Theseus appeared in Epirus. 730
But I who looked for him, my Lord, well knowing. . .
Hippolytus
No matter: listen to all, and neglect nothing
Let's look into this rumour, trace its source.
If it doesn't merit any change of course,
We'll leave: and whatever the cost to us may be, 735
We'll yet place the sceptre in hands more worthy.
Act III Scene I (Phaedra, Oenone)
Oh! If they'd take elsewhere the honours they send me!
Importunate girl, do you want them to see me?
With what do you hope to stir my desolate heart?
Rather you should hide me: I the truth impart. 740
My visible passions dared to appear abroad.
I have said what should never be overheard.
Heavens! How he listened! In how many ways
That unfeeling man evaded what I had to say!
To achieve a swift departure was his only aim! 745
And how his blushes increased my sense of shame!
Why did you seek to thwart my desire for death?
Alas! When that sword of his sought out my breast,
Did he grow pale for me, and snatch it from me?
It was enough for my hand to touch it lightly, 750
To render it distasteful to that inhuman man:
And for that wretched blade to soil his hands.
Oenone
So in this affliction, that only breeds anguish,
You nourish a passion that you should extinguish.
Would it not be better, Minos' worthy daughter, 755
To search for repose amongst the nobler cares,
Rule, in opposition to that ungrateful man
Who resorts to flight: and govern in the land?
Phaedra
I rule? I, and bring the state beneath my law,
When my weak mind can rule itself no more! 760
When I've abandoned control of my senses so!
When I can scarce breathe beneath a shameful yoke!
When I am dying!
Oenone
Take flight.
Phaedra
I cannot leave him.
Oenone
You dared to banish him: you daren't avoid him?
Phaedra
No longer. He knows my ardent ecstasy. 765
I've passed the bounds of cautious modesty.
In my conqueror's sight I declared my shame,
Yet hope glides to my heart now all the same.
You yourself, defeating my powers' eclipse,
Recalling my soul, already hovering on my lips, 770
You revived me with your flattering advice.
Made me see, that I might love him, with your eyes.
Oenone
Alas! Innocent of your misfortune, or culpable,
To save you still, of what would I not be capable?
But if ever its offence distressed your mind, 775
Can you forget the scornfulness of his pride?
With what cruel glances his harsh severity
Left you well nigh submissive at his feet!
How odious his savage pride has made him!
If Phaedra only had my eyes to see him! 780
Phaedra
Oenone, he may quench this pride that wounds you.
Raised in the forests, he has their wildness too.
Hippolytus, hardened by their savage laws,
Hears love's language he never heard before.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our complaints perhaps show too much violence.
Oenone
Think: a barbarian formed him in her womb.
Phaedra
Scythian, and barbarian, she's known love too.
Oenone
He has a deadly hatred for all our sex.
Phaedra
Then I'll suffer a dearth of rivals, I expect. 790
Your advice, in short, is out of season.
Serve my madness, Oenone, not my reason.
His inaccessible heart is opposed to love:
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
The charms of Empire appeared to stir him: 795
He could not conceal it: Athens attracts him:
His ships are already turned that way I find,
Their fluttering sails abandoned to the wind.
Seek out for me this youth and his ambition,
Oenone. Make the crown glitter to his vision. 800
Let him place the sacred diadem on his brow:
The honour of setting it there's all I wish now.
Let's cede the power we can't hold to this man.
He'll teach my son how to exercise command.
Perhaps he'd truly like to replace his father. 805
I'll commit to his power both son and mother.
Try every means you can to change his mind:
Your words will find a more ready ear than mine.
Urge him, weep; moan; paint Phaedra as dying,
Don't be ashamed to adopt a suppliant's sighing. 810
I'll approve you in all: I've no hope but you.
Go, I'll await you, then decide what I shall do.
Act III Scene II (Phaedra)
Phaedra
O you, who see the shame into which I fall,
Implacable Venus, am I sufficiently in thrall?
You could take your cruelty no further though. 815
Your triumph's complete: your arrows all strike home.
Yet cruel one, if you still seek fresh glory
Attack some more rebellious enemy.
Hippolytus flees you, who, braving your anger,
Has never bowed his knees before your altar. 820
Your name seems to offend those proud ears of his.
Goddess, take vengeance! We share the same cause.
If only he loves. But already you return,
Oenone? He detests me: he will not listen.
Act III Scene III (Phaedra, Oenone)
Extinguish all thought of this vain amour,
Madame. And summon up your former honour. 825
The King, thought dead, will appear before your face:
Theseus is here: Theseus has reached this place.
The crowd go now to see him, in a headlong rush,
I went out, at your command, to find Hippolytus,
When a thousand cries split the heavens. . . 830
Phaedra
My husband is alive, Oenone, that's sufficient.
I've confessed an unworthy love he'll deplore.
He lives. And I wish to know of nothing more.
Oenone
What?
Phaedra
I predicted it, but you'd not accept it. 835
Your tears prevailed then over my deep regret.
Dying this morning I would have been wept for:
I followed your counsel: I die without honour.
Oenone
You die?
Phaedra
Just heavens! This day, what have I done?
My husband will appear: with him is his son. 840
I'll see the witness to my adulterous amour
Noting the manner in which I greet his father,
My heart full of the sighs he would not embrace,
My eyes wet with the tears scorned by that ingrate.
Do you think that he, conscious of Theseus' honour, 845
Will conceal what I am burning with, this ardour?
Will he let his king and father be betrayed?
Can he contain the horror he's displayed?
He'd be silent in vain. I know my transgression,
Oenone, and I'm not one of those bold women 850
Who enjoy their crimes in peace and tranquillity,
And know how to show their faces unblushingly.
I know my madness, and recall it completely.
Already it seems these walls, and these ceilings
Will speak aloud, and are ready to accuse me, 855
Await my husband, to disabuse him of me.
Let me die. From what horrors death sets me free!
Is it such great misfortune to cease to be?
Death, to the wretched, is no cause for terror.
The name I leave behind is all I have to fear. 860
What a fearful inheritance for my poor children!
Let the blood of Jupiter swell their courage then:
Yet despite the true pride pure blood may occasion,
A mother's guilt is still a heavy burden.
I tremble lest words that speak their truth 865
Some day reproach them for a mother's guilt.
I tremble lest, oppressed by so odious a weight,
Neither will ever dare to lift their gaze.
Oenone
It cannot be doubted: I pity both together:
Nothing was ever more justified than your fear. 870
But why expose them to such confrontation?
Why bear witness against yourself in this fashion?
It's done: Phaedra, only too guilty, they'll say,
Fled the fierce gaze of the husband she betrayed.
Hippolytus is happy: by ending your days, 875
You yourself, in dying, endorse what he says.
And how can I respond when you're accused?
Face to face with him I'd be utterly confused.
I'll see him rejoice in triumph now, I fear,
Speaking your shame to whoever will give him ear. 880
Ah! Better that flames from heaven should devour me!
But is he still dear to you now, don't deceive me?
With what gaze then do you view this daring prince?
Phaedra
He seems like some terrible monster to my glance.
Oenone
Why grant him a complete victory so? 885
You fear him. Be first to accuse him, though,
Of a crime he may accuse you of today.
Who'll deny you? All's against him anyway:
His sword that he happily left with you:
Your present sorrow, your past distress, too: 890
His father warned long ago by your complaints:
And his exile you've already once obtained.
Phaedra
I, to dare to oppress and blacken innocence!
Oenone
My zeal only has need of your silence.
I tremble as you do, feel almost your own regret. 895
You'd see me sooner die a thousand deaths.
But since I'll lose you without this remedy,
Your life's a prize before which all else must yield.
I'll speak out. Theseus, angered by my confession,
Will be content to exile his son, in vengeance. 900
A father, in punishing, Madame, is always a father.
A light sentence will suffice to cool his anger.
But even if innocent blood must still be shed,
Your honour, being threatened, demands no less.
The treasure's too dear to dare to compromise it. 905
Whatever sentence is pronounced, you must submit,
Madame, if embattled honour would be rescued,
You must sacrifice everything, even virtue.
They come: I see Theseus.
Phaedra
Hippolytus, I:
I see my ruin written in his bold eye. 910
Do what you will: to you I abandon myself.
In this distress, I can do nothing for myself.
Act III Scene IV (Theseus, Hippolytus, Phaedra, Oenone, Theramenes)
Theseus
Fortune has ceased to oppose my wishes,
Madame, and brings to your arms. . .
Phaedra
Stop, Theseus,
And don't profane your feelings of joyfulness.
