LEADER
My son, we should avail us of the gifts that gods confer.
HIPPOLYTUS
Go in, my
faithful followers, and make ready food within the
house; a well-filled board hath charms after the chase is o'er. Rub
down my steeds ye must, that when I have had my fill I may yoke them
to the
chariot and give them proper exercise. As for thy Queen of
Love, a long
farewell to her.
(HIPPOLYTUS goes into the palace, followed by all the ATTENDANTS
except the LEADER, who prays before the
statue of APHRODITE.)
LEADER
Meantime I with sober mind, for I must not copy my young master,
do offer up my prayer to thy image, lady Cypris, in such words as it
becomes a slave to use. But thou should'st
pardon all, who, in youth's
impetuous heat, speak idle words of thee; make as though thou
hearest not, for gods must needs be wiser than the sons of men.
(The LEADER goes into the palace. The CHORUS OF
TROEZENIAN WOMEN enters.)
CHORUS (singing)
strophe 1
A rock there is, where, as they say, the ocean dew distils, and
from its beetling brow it pours a
copiousstream for pitchers to be
dipped
therein; 'twas here I had a friend washing robes of
purple in
the trickling
stream, and she was spreading them out on the face of
warm sunny rock; from her I had the
tidings, first of all, that my
mistress-
antistrophe 1
Was
wasting on the bed of
sickness, pent within her house, a
thin veil o'ershadowing her head of golden hair. And this is the third
day I hear that she hath closed her lovely lips and denied her
chaste body all sustenance, eager to hide her
suffering and reach
death's cheerless bourn.
strophe 2
Maiden, thou must be possessed, by Pan made
frantic or by
Hecate, or by the Corybantes dread, and Cybele the mountain mother. Or
maybe thou hast sinned against Dictynna, huntress-queen, and art
wasting for thy guilt in sacrifice unoffered. For she doth range
o'er lakes'
expanse and past the bounds of earth upon the ocean's
tossing billows.
antistrophe 2
Or doth some rival in thy house
beguile thy lord, the captain of
Erechtheus' sons, that hero nobly born, to secret amours hid from
thee? Or hath some
mariner sailing
hither from Crete reached this port
that sailors love, with evil
tidings for our queen, and she with
sorrow for her
grievous fate is to her bed confined?
epode
Yea, and oft o'er woman's
wayward nature settles a feeling of
miserable
helplessness, arising from pains of child-birth or of
passionate desire. I, too, have felt at times this sharp thrill
shoot through me, but I would cry to Artemis, queen of archery, who
comes from heaven to aid us in our travail, and thanks to heaven's
grace she ever comes at my call with
welcome help. Look! where the
aged nurse is bringing her forth from the house before the door, while
on her brow the cloud of gloom is deepening. My soul longs to learn
what is her grief, the
canker that is
wasting our queen's fading
charms.
(PHAEDRA is led out and placed upon a couch by the NURSE and
attendants. The following lines between the NURSE and PHAEDRA are
chanted.)
NURSE
O, the ills of
mortal men! the cruel diseases they endure! What
can I do for thee? from what
refrain? Here is the bright sunlight,
here the azure sky; lo! we have brought thee on thy bed of
sicknesswithout the palace; for all thy talk was of coming
hither, but soon
back to thy
chamber wilt thou hurry. Disappointment follows fast
with thee, thou hast no joy in aught for long; the present has no
power to please; on something
absent next thy heart is set. Better
be sick than tend the sick; the first is but a single ill, the last
unites
mental grief with
manual toil. Man's whole life is full of
anguish; no
respite from his woes he finds; but if there is aught to
love beyond this life, night's dark pall doth wrap it round. And so we
show our mad love of this life because its light is shed on earth, and
because we know no other, and have
naught revealed to us of all our
earth may hide; and
trusting to fables we drift at random.
PHAEDRA (wildly)
Lift my body, raise my head! My limbs are all unstrung, kind