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Phaedra

<h2> ACT V </h2> SCENE I HIPPOLYTUS, ARICIA ARICIA Can you keep silent in this mortal peril? Your father loves you. Will you leave him thus Deceived? If in your cruel heart you scorn My tears, content to see me nevermore, Go, part from poor Aricia; but at least, Going, secure the safety of your life. Defend your honor from a shameful stain, And force your father to recall his pray'rs. There yet is time. Why out of mere caprice Leave the field free to Phaedra's calumnies? Let Theseus know the truth. HIPPOLYTUS Could I say more, Without exposing him to dire disgrace? How should I venture, by revealing all, To make a father's brow grow red with shame? The odious mystery to you alone Is known. My heart has been outpour'd to none Save you and Heav'n. I could not hide from you (Judge if I love you), all I fain would hide E'en from myself. But think under what seal I spoke. Forget my words, if that may be; And never let so pure a mouth disclose This dreadful secret. Let us trust to Heav'n My vindication, for the gods are just; For their own honour will they clear the guiltless; Sooner or later punish'd for her crime, Phaedra will not escape the shame she merits. I ask no other favour than your silence; In all besides I give my wrath free scope. Make your escape from this captivity, Be bold to bear me company in flight; Linger not here on this accursed soil, Where virtue breathes a pestilential air. To cover your departure take advantage Of this confusion, caused by my disgrace. The means of flight are ready, be assured; You have as yet no other guards than mine. Pow'rful defenders will maintain our quarrel; Argos spreads open arms, and Sparta calls us. Let us appeal for justice to our friends, Nor suffer Phaedra, in a common ruin Joining us both, to hunt us from the throne, And aggrandise her son by robbing us. Embrace this happy opportunity: What fear restrains? You seem to hesitate. Your interest alone prompts me to urge Boldness. When I am all on fire, how comes it That you are ice? Fear you to follow then A banish'd man? ARICIA Ah, dear to me would be Such exile! With what joy, my fate to yours United, could I live, by all the world Forgotten! but not yet has that sweet tie Bound us together. How then can I steal Away with you? I know the strictest honour Forbids me not out of your father's hands To free myself; this is no parent's home, And flight is lawful when one flies from tyrants. But you, Sir, love me; and my virtue shrinks— HIPPOLYTUS No, no, your reputation is to me As dear as to yourself. A nobler purpose Brings me to you. Fly from your foes, and follow A husband. Heav'n, that sends us these misfortunes, Sets free from human instruments the pledge Between us. Torches do not always light The face of Hymen. At the gates of Troezen, 'Mid ancient tombs where princes of my race Lie buried, stands a temple, ne'er approach'd By perjurers, where mortals dare not make False oaths, for instant punishment befalls The guilty. Falsehood knows no stronger check Than what is present there—the fear of death That cannot be avoided. Thither then We'll go, if you consent, and swear to love For ever, take the guardian god to witness Our solemn vows, and his paternal care Entreat. I will invoke the name of all The holiest Pow'rs; chaste Dian, and the Queen Of Heav'n, yea all the gods who know my heart Will guarantee my sacred promises. ARICIA The King draws near. Depart,—make no delay. To mask my flight, I linger yet one moment. Go you; and leave with me some trusty guide, To lead my timid footsteps to your side. SCENE II THESEUS, ARICIA, ISMENE THESEUS Ye gods, throw light upon my troubled mind, Show me the truth which I am seeking here. ARICIA (aside to ISMENE) Get ready, dear Ismene, for our flight. SCENE III THESEUS, ARICIA THESEUS Your colour comes and goes, you seem confused, Madame! What business had my son with you? ARICIA Sire, he was bidding me farewell for ever. THESEUS Your eyes, it seems, can tame that stubborn pride; And the first sighs he breathes are paid to you. ARICIA I can't deny the truth; he has not, Sire, Inherited your hatred and injustice; He did not treat me like a criminal. THESEUS That is to say, he swore eternal love. Do not rely on that inconstant heart; To others has he sworn as much before. ARICIA He, Sire? THESEUS You ought to check his roving taste. How could you bear a partnership so vile? ARICIA And how can you endure that vilest slanders Should make a life so pure as black as pitch? Have you so little knowledge of his heart? Do you so ill distinguish between guilt And innocence? What mist before your eyes Blinds them to virtue so conspicuous? Ah! 'tis too much to let false tongues defame him. Repent; call back your murderous wishes, Sire; Fear, fear lest Heav'n in its severity Hate you enough to hear and grant your pray'rs. Oft in their wrath the gods accept our victims, And oftentimes chastise us with their gifts. THESEUS No, vainly would you cover up his guilt. Your love is blind to his depravity. But I have witness irreproachable: Tears have I seen, true tears, that may be trusted. ARICIA Take heed, my lord. Your hands invincible Have rid the world of monsters numberless; But all are not destroy'd, one you have left Alive—Your son forbids me to say more. Knowing with what respect he still regards you, I should too much distress him if I dared Complete my sentence. I will imitate His reverence, and, to keep silence, leave you. SCENE IV THESEUS (alone) What is there in her mind? What meaning lurks In speech begun but to be broken short? Would both deceive me with a vain pretence? Have they conspired to put me to the torture? And yet, despite my stern severity, What plaintive voice cries deep within my heart? A secret pity troubles and alarms me. Oenone shall be questioned once again, I must have clearer light upon this crime. Guards, bid Oenone come, and come alone. SCENE V THESEUS, PANOPE PANOPE I know not what the Queen intends to do, But from her agitation dread the worst. Fatal despair is painted on her features; Death's pallor is already in her face. Oenone, shamed and driven from her sight, Has cast herself into the ocean depths. None knows what prompted her to deed so rash; And now the waves hide her from us for ever. THESEUS What say you? PANOPE Her sad fate seems to have added Fresh trouble to the Queen's tempestuous soul. Sometimes, to soothe her secret pain, she clasps Her children close, and bathes them with her tears; Then suddenly, the mother's love forgotten, She thrusts them from her with a look of horror, She wanders to and fro with doubtful steps; Her vacant eye no longer knows us. Thrice She wrote, and thrice did she, changing her mind, Destroy the letter ere 'twas well begun. Vouchsafe to see her, Sire: vouchsafe to help her. THESEUS Heav'ns! Is Oenone dead, and Phaedra bent On dying too? Oh, call me back my son! Let him defend himself, and I am ready To hear him. Be not hasty to bestow Thy fatal bounty, Neptune; let my pray'rs Rather remain ever unheard. Too soon I lifted cruel hands, believing lips That may have lied! Ah! What despair may follow! SCENE VI THESEUS, THERAMENES THESEUS Theramenes, is't thou? Where is my son? I gave him to thy charge from tenderest childhood. But whence these tears that overflow thine eyes? How is it with my son? THERAMENES Concern too late! Affection vain! Hippolytus is dead. THESEUS Gods! THERAMENES I have seen the flow'r of all mankind Cut off, and I am bold to say that none Deserved it less. THESEUS What! My son dead! When I Was stretching out my arms to him, has Heav'n Hasten'd his end? What was this sudden stroke? THERAMENES Scarce had we pass'd out of the gates of Troezen, He silent in his chariot, and his guards Downcast and silent too, around him ranged; To the Mycenian road he turn'd his steeds, Then, lost in thought, allow'd the reins to lie Loose on their backs. His noble chargers, erst So full of ardour to obey his voice, With head depress'd and melancholy eye Seem'd now to mark his sadness and to share it. A frightful cry, that issues from the deep, With sudden discord rends the troubled air; And from the bosom of the earth a groan Is heard in answer to that voice of terror. Our blood is frozen at our very hearts; With bristling manes the list'ning steeds stand still. Meanwhile upon the watery plain there rises A mountain billow with a mighty crest Of foam, that shoreward rolls, and, as it breaks Before our eyes vomits a furious monster. With formidable horns its brow is arm'd, And all its body clothed with yellow scales, In front a savage bull, behind a dragon Turning and twisting in impatient rage. Its long continued bellowings make the shore Tremble; the sky seems horror-struck to see it; The earth with terror quakes; its poisonous breath Infects the air. The wave that brought it ebbs In fear. All fly, forgetful of the courage That cannot aid, and in a neighbouring temple Take refuge—all save bold Hippolytus. A hero's worthy son, he stays his steeds, Seizes his darts, and, rushing forward, hurls A missile with sure aim that wounds the monster Deep in the flank. With rage and pain it springs E'en to the horses' feet, and, roaring, falls, Writhes in the dust, and shows a fiery throat That covers them with flames, and blood, and smoke. Fear lends them wings; deaf to his voice for once, And heedless of the curb, they onward fly. Their master wastes his strength in efforts vain; With foam and blood each courser's bit is red. Some say a god, amid this wild disorder, Was seen with goads pricking their dusty flanks. O'er jagged rocks they rush urged on by terror; Crash! goes the axle-tree. Th' intrepid youth Sees his car broken up, flying to pieces; He falls himself entangled in the reins. Pardon my grief. That cruel spectacle Will be for me a source of endless tears. I saw thy hapless son, I saw him, Sire, Drag'd by the horses that his hands had fed, Pow'rless to check their fierce career, his voice But adding to their fright, his body soon One mass of wounds. Our cries of anguish fill The plain. At last they slacken their swift pace, Then stop, not far from those old tombs that mark Where lie the ashes of his royal sires. Panting I thither run, and after me His guard, along the track stain'd with fresh blood That reddens all the rocks; caught in the briers Locks of his hair hang dripping, gory spoils! I come, I call him. Stretching forth his hand, He opens his dying eyes, soon closed again. "The gods have robb'd me of a guiltless life," I hear him say: "Take care of sad Aricia When I am dead. Dear friend, if e'er my father Mourn, undeceived, his son's unhappy fate Falsely accused; to give my spirit peace, Tell him to treat his captive tenderly, And to restore—" With that the hero's breath Fails, and a mangled corpse lies in my arms, A piteous object, trophy of the wrath Of Heav'n—so changed, his father would not know him. THESEUS Alas, my son! Dear hope for ever lost! The ruthless gods have served me but too well. For what a life of anguish and remorse Am I reserved! THERAMENES Aricia at that instant, Flying from you, comes timidly, to take him For husband, there, in presence of the gods. Thus drawing nigh, she sees the grass all red And reeking, sees (sad sight for lover's eye!) Hippolytus stretch'd there, pale and disfigured. But, for a time doubtful of her misfortune, Unrecognized the hero she adores, She looks, and asks—"Where is Hippolytus?" Only too sure at last that he lies there Before her, with sad eyes that silently Reproach the gods, she shudders, groans, and falls Swooning and all but lifeless, at his feet. Ismene, all in tears, kneels down beside her, And calls her back to life—life that is naught But sense of pain. And I, to whom this light Is darkness now, come to discharge the duty The hero has imposed on me, to tell thee His last request—a melancholy task. But hither comes his mortal enemy. SCENE VII THESEUS, PHAEDRA, THERAMENES, PANOPE, GUARDS THESEUS Madame, you've triumph'd, and my son is kill'd! Ah, but what room have I for fear! How justly Suspicion racks me that in blaming him I err'd! But he is dead; accept your victim; Rightly or wrongly slain, let your heart leap For joy. My eyes shall be for ever blind: Since you accuse him, I'll believe him guilty. His death affords me cause enough for tears, Without a foolish search for further light Which, pow'rless to restore him to my grief, Might only serve to make me more unhappy, Far from this shore and far from you I'll fly, For here the image of my mangled son Would haunt my memory and drive me mad. From the whole world I fain would banish me, For all the world seems to rise up in judgment Against me; and my very glory weights My punishment; for, were my name less known 'Twere easier to hide me. All the favours The gods have granted me I mourn and hate, Nor will I importune them with vain pray'rs Henceforth for ever. Give me what they may, What they have taken will all else outweigh. PHAEDRA Theseus, I cannot hear you and keep silence: I must repair the wrong that he has suffer'd— Your son was innocent. THESEUS Unhappy father! And it was on your word that I condemn'd him! Think you such cruelty can be excused— PHAEDRA Moments to me are precious; hear me, Theseus. 'Twas I who cast an eye of lawless passion On chaste and dutiful Hippolytus. Heav'n in my bosom kindled baleful fire, And vile Oenone's cunning did the rest. She fear'd Hippolytus, knowing my madness, Would make that passion known which he regarded With horror; so advantage of my weakness She took, and hasten'd to accuse him first. For that she has been punish'd, tho' too mildly; Seeking to shun my wrath she cast herself Beneath the waves. The sword ere now had cut My thread of life, but slander'd innocence Made its cry heard, and I resolved to die In a more lingering way, confessing first My penitence to you. A poison, brought To Athens by Medea, runs thro' my veins. Already in my heart the venom works, Infusing there a strange and fatal chill; Already as thro' thickening mists I see The spouse to whom my presence is an outrage; Death, from mine eyes veiling the light of heav'n, Restores its purity that they defiled. PANOPE She dies my lord! THESEUS Would that the memory Of her disgraceful deed could perish with her! Ah, disabused too late! Come, let us go, And with the blood of mine unhappy son Mingle our tears, clasping his dear remains, In deep repentance for a pray'r detested. Let him be honour'd as he well deserves; And, to appease his sore offended ghost, Be her near kinsmen's guilt whate'er it may, Aricia shall be held my daughter from to-day. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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