No More Learning

Theramenes

What! Are you persecuting her, my lord, indeed?
Has that sweet sister of the cruel Pallantides
Ever been involved in her brothers' perfidies?
Can you bring yourself to hate her innocent charms? 55

Hippolyte

If I hated her I would not flee her arms.

Theramenes

Am I allowed to explain this flight to us?
Can it be you're no longer proud Hippolytus,
Implacable enemy of the laws of love,
Of that yoke Theseus so often knew above? 60
Could Venus whom your pride so often scorned,
Wish to justify Theseus, after all?
And placing you in the ranks of other mortals,
Force you now to light incense at her altars?
Do you love, my lord?

Hippolytus

Friend, what is it you dare say? 65
You who've known my heart since my first day,
Do you ask me to deny, when it would be shameful,
The feelings of a heart so proud, and so disdainful?
With her milk, an Amazon mother once fed me
On that pride you seem, now, so amazed to see: 70
Then, when I myself achieved a riper age,
I knew and approved my thoughts at every stage.
Attached to me then, with eager sincerity,
You told me all about my father's history.
You know how my soul, attentive to your voice, 75
Was warmed by the noble story of his exploits,
As you revealed that intrepid hero to me,
Consoling us mortals for lost Hercules,
Monsters choked, and robbers punished,
Procustus, Cercyon, Sciron, and Sinis: 80
Epidaurus, and the giant's bones flung abroad,
Crete, smoking with the blood of the Minotaur.
But when you told me of less glorious deeds,
His word in a hundred places pledged, received,
Helen in Sparta stolen from her parents, 85
Periboea's tears witnessed by all Salamis,
So many others whose names he's forgotten,
Credulous spirits deceived by his passion:
Ariadne telling the rocks of those injustices,
Phaedra won, at last, under better auspices: 90
You know how, regretfully hearing that discourse,
I often urged you to abridge its course:
Happy if I could erase in memory
The unworthy chapters of so fine a story!
And am I myself entangled in my turn? 95
Is my humiliation the gods concern?
My cowardly sighs are the more contemptible,
Since glory renders Theseus excusable:
Because as yet myself I've tamed no monsters,
I've acquired no right to imitate his failures. 100
And even if my pride could be sweetened more,
Would I choose Aricia as my conqueror?
Is my mind so lost it no longer remembers
The eternal obstacle that separates us?
My father disapproves: and laws most severe 105
Prevent him granting nephews to her brothers:
He fears the offspring born of a guilty strain:
He'd like to bury their sister and their name,
Submit her to his guardianship till the grave,
Ensure that for her no wedding torches blaze. 110
Should I flaunt her rights against an angry father?
Shall I set an example in my rashness, rather?
And let my youth embark on a mad affair. . .

Theramenes

Oh! My lord, once our fate is written there,
Heaven knows not to inquire into our reasons. 115
Theseus opened your eyes so he might close them,
Yet his hatred, exciting a rebellious flame,
Lends new grace to his enemy all the same.
Why be frightened of a love, though, that's so chaste?
If it possesses sweetness, won't you dare to taste? 120
Will these awkward scruples always hold you back?
Do you fear to lose yourself on Hercules' track?
Of what brave men has Venus not been conqueror!
Where would you be, now, you who fight against her,
If Antiope, opposed to her laws forever, 125
Hadn't burnt for Theseus with modest ardour?
But what use is it to affect a proud display?
Confess, and all will change: for many a day
We've seen you infrequently, unsociable, proud,
Now driving your chariot along the coast road, 130
Now, skilled in the art Neptune himself made plain,
Breaking an untamed stallion to the rein.
The forests ring out less often to our cries.
Filled with secret fire, there's heaviness in your eyes.
There's no longer any doubt: you love, you burn: 135
You are dying of an illness you disguise in turn.
Or has lovely Aricia pleased you, rather?

Hippolytus

Theramenes, I am leaving, to seek my father.

Theramenes

Will you not see Phaedra again, before you go,
My lord?

Hippolytus

That's my intent: you may tell her so. 140
I'll see her, since my duty demands of it me.

(Oenone enters. )

But what new trouble disturbs dear Oenone?

Act I Scene II (Hippolytus, Oenone, Theramenes)

Oenone

Alas! My lord, what misfortune could equal mine?
The Queen is near to the ending of her life.
I've kept watch over her, in vain, day and night: 145
She'll die in my arms of this illness that she hides.
Eternal disorder reigns now in her spirit.
She's torn from her bed by sorrowful unquiet.
She wishes to see the light: yet with deep sadness
Orders the world outside to be dismissed. . . 150
She is here.

Hippolyte

Enough: I'll leave this place to her,
And show my odious face to her no longer.

Act I Scene III (Phaedra, Oenone)

Phaedra

Let's go no further. Stay, dear Oenone.
I can't support myself: my strength has left me.
My eyes are dazzled, on seeing the light of day, 155
My knees, trembling beneath me, have given way.
Alas!

(She sits down. )

Oenone

All-powerful gods! If tears could but appease.

Phaedra

How these vain ornaments, these veils burden me!
What irksome hand, weaving these knots around,
Has gathered my hair with such care on my brow? 160
All afflicts, and harms, and conspires to harm me.

Oeneone

Your wishes thwart one another, alternately!
You yourself, condemning your unjust intent,
Urged our hands to prepare you for this instant:
You yourself, recalling your former strength, 165
Wished to rise again, and see the light at length.
You see it, mistress, and start to hide once more:
Do you hate the daylight you were searching for?

Phaedra

Noble, glittering creator of a sad family,
You, whose daughter my mother dared claim to be, 170
Who blush perhaps on viewing my troubled mind,
Oh Sun, I come to look on you for one last time.

Oeneone

What! Will you never forget that cruel desire?
Am I always to see you renouncing life entire,
Making funereal preparations for your death? 175

Phaedra

Gods! Why am I not sitting in that dark forest?
When shall I follow the chariot with my eyes
Charging nobly on, through the dust that flies?

Oenone

What, lady?

Phaedra

Maddened, where am I! What did I say?
Where have I let my will and spirit go play? 180
I have lost them: the gods deny me their use.
Oenone, blushes cover my face, its truth:
I have let you see my sad shame too clearly,
And my eyes, despite myself, weep tearfully.

Oenone

Oh! If you must blush, blush for your silence 185
That still embitters your sorrow's violence.
Rebelling against our care, deaf to our discourse,
Will you let your last days take this pitiless course?
What madness limits them in the midst of their force?
What spell, what poison has dried up their source? 190
Three times the shadows have obscured the sky,
Since sleep has entered in your saddened eye:
Three times has day driven night from the firmament,
While your body languished without nourishment.
By what fearful design are you being tempted? 195
By what right do you dare to let your life be ended?
You offend the gods, creators of your reality:
You betray the man to whom you pledged all loyalty:
You betray your children, those unfortunates,
Whom you drive beneath the yoke's harsh weight. 200
Think how that day will snatch away their mother,
And give hope to the son of that alien other,
To that proud enemy of yours, your race's doom,
That son an Amazon carried in her womb,
That Hippolytus. . .

Phaedra

Gods!

Oenone

You're moved by my censure? 205

Phaedra

Wretched woman, whose name do you dare to mention?

Oenone

That's good! Your anger rises for a reason:
I'm glad to see you shudder at her fatal son.
Live then. As love and duty shall drive you on,
Live, and don't allow that child of a Scythian, 210
Crushing your children in despised embrace,
To command the gods' and Greece's noblest race.
But don't delay: each moment now is killing you.
Quickly then, your waning strength needs rescue,
While the flame of your life, almost dwindled, 215
Still endures, and can even yet be rekindled.

Phaedra

I've already prolonged its guilty thread too far.

Oenone

How! By what remorse are you being torn apart?
What crime could have brought about such fierce pain?
Your hands have no innocent blood on them, no stain? 220

Phaedra

Thanks to heaven, my hands are not criminals.
Would the gods my heart were innocent as well!

Oenone

And what fearful project have you tried,
That it still leaves your heart so terrified?

Phaedra

I've talked to you enough. Now, spare me the rest. 225
I die to evade this disastrous urge to confess.

Oenone

Well die: and so protect that inhuman silence:
But seek another hand to close your eyes, and
Though scarcely a feeble ray of light is left you,
My spirit will descend to the dead before you. 230
A thousand roads ever open lead us on,
And my true grief will choose the shortest one.
Cruel one, when has my faith ever betrayed you?
Think: when you were born my arms received you.
For you, I left everything, my land: my children. 235
Is this the reward that loyalty shall be given?

Phaedra

What benefit do you hope for from this violence?
You'll shudder with horror if I break my silence.

Oenone

Great gods, what could you tell me that wouldn't yield
To the horror of seeing you die, my eyes unsealed? 240

Phaedra

If you knew my crime, my fate that crushes the will,
I would die no less: I would die more guilty still.

Oenone

Madame, by the tears for you that wet my face,
By your faltering knees that I here embrace,
Free my spirit from dreadful questioning. 245

Phaedra

You wish it so. Rise.

Oenone

Speak: I am listening.

Phaedra

Heaven! What shall I tell her? Begin, but where?

Oenone

Don't offend me with these idle hints of terror.

Phaedra

O Venus' hatred! O fatal anger!
To what distraction did love not drive my mother! 250

Oenone

Forget those things, and in future, my lady,
Let eternal silence hide their memory.

Phaedra

Ariadne, my sister! Wounded by what passion
Did you die on the shore, where you were abandoned?

Oenone

Why this, my lady? What mortal misery 255
Excites you today against your family?

Phaedra

Because Venus wills that of this dreadful race
I shall perish the last, and the most disgraced.

Oenone

Do you love?

Phaedra

I feel all the furies of desire.

Oenone

For whom?

Phaedra

You shall know all my deepest fire. 260
I love. . . . At the deadly name I tremble, shudder.
I love. . . .

Oenone

Whom?

Phaedra

The son of that Amazon mother:
You must know that prince I myself oppressed so long?

Oenone

Hippolyte! You gods!

Phaedra

Yes, him, you are not wrong.

Oenone

Just heaven! All the blood's frozen in my veins. 265
O despair! O crime! O you race without shame!
Unfortunate voyage! O, miserable shore!
Why did you come then to this place of danger?

Phaedra

My pain goes further back. I was scarcely tied
To Aegeus' son, by those laws that make a bride, 270
My false peace and happiness secured to me,
When Athens showed me my glorious enemy.
I saw him, I blushed: I paled at the sight:
Pain swelled in my troubled heart outright:
My eyes saw nothing: I couldn't speak for pain: 275
I felt my whole body frozen, and in flame.
I recognised Venus and her fearsome fires.
Of a race whose remorseless torments she desires.
I thought I could prevent grief by ceaseless prayer:
I built her a temple, adorned it with all care: 280
Surrounding myself with victims at all hours,
I sought my lost reason in those bloody dowers,
The powerless remedy for a love without a cure!
In vain I burnt incense at her altars, impure:
When my mouth called on the name of the goddess, 285
I adored Hippolytus: my vision of him endless,
Even at the altars' foot where I lit the flame,
I offered all to that god I dared not name.
I avoided him everywhere. O height of misery!
My eyes sought him in his father's reality. 290
At last I dared to rise against my own being:
I roused my courage to persecute, with feeling.
To banish the enemy who made me an idolater,
I feigned my grievance, an unjust stepmother:
I urged his exile, and my eternal cries, 295
Made him unwelcome to his father's eyes.
I breathed Oenone, then, and given his absence
My days, less troubled, were spent in innocence.
Submitting to my husband, hiding pain instead,
Caring for the fruits of our fatal marriage bed. 300
Useless precaution! Cruel destiny!
Brought by my husband to Troezen, only to see,
Once more, the enemy that I'd sent away:
My wound, still living, quickly bled again,
It's no longer an ardour hidden in my veins: 305
It's Venus fastening wholly on her prey.
For my crime I now conceive a perfect terror:
I view my life with hatred, my love with horror.
Dying, I wish to protect my name by that act:
And conceal from the light a flame so black. 310
I could not endure your tears: your questioning:
I've confessed it all: and I repent of nothing,
Provided you respect my death's approach,
Without afflicting me with unjust reproach,
And that you cease to recall by your vain aid, 315
This remnant of life I'm ready to breathe away.

Act I Scene IV (Phaedra, Oenone, Panope)

Panope

I wished to hide the sorrowful news from you,
My lady: but now I must reveal it to you.
Death has taken your invincible husband,
You only were unaware that it has happened. 320

Oenone

Panope, what are you saying?

Panope

That the Queen betrayed
Would demand Theseus's return from heaven in vain,
And that Hippolyte his son has learned of this before,
From those vessels that have lately come to shore.


Phaedra

You Heavens!

Panope

Athens is split over the choice of leader. 325
One gives his vote to your son the Prince: another,
Madame, forgetting the laws of his country,
Dares grant support to the son of your enemy.
They even say that an insolent intrigue
Would crown Aricia and the Pallantides. 330
I thought this peril might be turned from you.
Even now Hippolyte prepares to leave us too:
And I fear that if he appears, in that storm,
The fickle crowd will follow him in swarms.

Oenone

Panope, that's enough. The Queen who's listening, 335
Will not neglect to heed your vital warning.

Act I Scene V (Phaedra, Oenone)

Oenone

My lady, I'd ceased to urge you to live on:
I'd already decided to follow you to the tomb:
I had thought to seek to deter you no longer:
But this new trouble forces new duties on you. 340
Your fate has altered, and shows another face:
The King's no more. Madame must take his place.
You belong to your son, left to you by that death,
A slave if you die, a king while you have breath.
On whom, in this trouble, would you have him depend? 345
His tears will find no hand to dry them, no friend:
His innocent cries, heard by the gods above us,
Will harm his mother, and anger his ancestors.
Live: you've nothing to condemn yourself for there:
Your passion becomes a commonplace affair. 350
Theseus, in dying, destroyed those complications,
That formed the crime, the horror of your passion.
Hippolyte's presence is less fearsome to you now,
And you can see him without guilt on your brow.
Perhaps, convinced of your profound aversion, 355
He'll make himself the leader of this sedition.
Disabuse him of his error: sway his bravery.
King of this happy land, Troezen's his destiny:
And he knows that the law will grant to your son
Those proud ramparts of Minerva's creation. 360
Both of you face the same true enemy:
Combine: oppose Aricia, in harmony.

Phaedra

Well! I will let myself be led by your advice.
Let us live, if they can bring me back to life,
And if love of a son, at this gloomy time, 365
Can re-animate what's left of my feeble mind.

Act II Scene I (Aricia, Ismene)

Aricia

Hippolyte wishes to see me here? And why?
Hippolyte looks for me, wants to say goodbye?
Ismene, is this true? Surely, you're incorrect?

Ismene

It's due to Theseus's death: the first effect. 370
My lady, be ready on every side to view
Those Theseus rejected, who'll flock to you.
Aricia's finally mistress of her fate,
And you'll soon see all Greece is at your feet.

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.