Phaedra Part 5

My madness has burst forth like streams in flood, And I have utter'd what should ne'er have reach'd His ear. G.o.ds! How he heard me! How reluctant To catch my meaning, dull and cold as marble, And eager only for a quick retreat!

How oft his blushes made my shame the deeper!

Why did you turn me from the death I sought?

Ah! When his sword was pointed to my bosom, Did he grow pale, or try to s.n.a.t.c.h it from me?

That I had touch'd it was enough for him To render it for ever horrible, Leaving defilement on the hand that holds it.

OENONE Thus brooding on your bitter disappointment, You only fan a fire that must be stifled.

Would it not be more worthy of the blood Of Minos to find peace in n.o.bler cares, And, in defiance of a wretch who flies From what he hates, reign, mount the proffer'd throne?

PHAEDRA I reign! Shall I the rod of empire sway, When reason reigns no longer o'er myself?

When I have lost control of all my senses?

When 'neath a shameful yoke I scarce can breathe?

When I am dying?

OENONE Fly.

PHAEDRA I cannot leave him.

OENONE Dare you not fly from him you dared to banish?

PHAEDRA The time for that is past. He knows my frenzy.

I have o'erstepp'd the bounds of modesty, And blazon'd forth my shame before his eyes.

Hope stole into my heart against my will.

Did you not rally my declining pow'rs?

Was it not you yourself recall'd my soul When fluttering on my lips, and with your counsel, Lent me fresh life, and told me I might love him?

OENONE Blame me or blame me not for your misfortunes, Of what was I incapable, to save you?

But if your indignation e'er was roused By insult, can you pardon his contempt?

How cruelly his eyes, severely fix'd, Survey'd you almost prostrate at his feet!

How hateful then appear'd his savage pride!

Why did not Phaedra see him then as I Beheld him?

PHAEDRA This proud mood that you resent May yield to time. The rudeness of the forests Where he was bred, inured to rigorous laws, Clings to him still; love is a word he ne'er Had heard before. It may be his surprise Stunn'd him, and too much vehemence was shown In all I said.

OENONE Remember that his mother Was a barbarian.

PHAEDRA Scythian tho' she was, She learned to love.

OENONE He has for all the s.e.x Hatred intense.

PHAEDRA Then in his heart no rival Shall ever reign. Your counsel comes too late Oenone, serve my madness, not my reason.

His heart is inaccessible to love.

Let us attack him where he has more feeling.

The charms of sovereignty appear'd to touch him; He could not hide that he was drawn to Athens; His vessels' prows were thither turn'd already, All sail was set to scud before the breeze.

Go you on my behalf, to his ambition Appeal, and let the prospect of the crown Dazzle his eyes. The sacred diadem Shall deck his brow, no higher honour mine Than there to bind it. His shall be the pow'r I cannot keep; and he shall teach my son How to rule men. It may be he will deign To be to him a father. Son and mother He shall control. Try ev'ry means to move him; Your words will find more favour than can mine.

Urge him with groans and tears; show Phaedra dying.

Nor blush to use the voice of supplication.

In you is my last hope; I'll sanction all You say; and on the issue hangs my fate.

Scene II

PHAEDRA (alone) Venus implacable, who seest me shamed And sore confounded, have I not enough Been humbled? How can cruelty be stretch'd Farther? Thy shafts have all gone home, and thou Hast triumph'd. Would'st thou win a new renown?

Attack an enemy more contumacious: Hippolytus neglects thee, braves thy wrath, Nor ever at thine altars bow'd the knee.

Thy name offends his proud, disdainful ears.

Our interests are alike: avenge thyself, Force him to love-- But what is this? Oenone Return'd already? He detests me then, And will not hear you.

SCENE III PHAEDRA, OENONE

OENONE Madam, you must stifle A fruitless love. Recall your former virtue: The king who was thought dead will soon appear Before your eyes, Theseus has just arrived, Theseus is here. The people flock to see him With eager haste. I went by your command To find the prince, when with a thousand shouts The air was rent--

PHAEDRA My husband is alive, That is enough, Oenone. I have own'd A pa.s.sion that dishonours him. He lives: I ask to know no more.

OENONE What?

PHAEDRA I foretold it, But you refused to hear. Your tears prevail'd Over my just remorse. Dying this morn, I had deserved compa.s.sion; your advice I took, and die dishonour'd.

OENONE Die?

PHAEDRA Just Heav'ns!

What have I done to-day? My husband comes, With him his son: and I shall see the witness Of my adulterous flame watch with what face I greet his father, while my heart is big With sighs he scorn'd, and tears that could not move him Moisten mine eyes. Think you that his respect For Theseus will induce him to conceal My madness, nor disgrace his sire and king?

Will he be able to keep back the horror He has for me? His silence would be vain.

I know my treason, and I lack the boldness Of those abandon'd women who can taste Tranquillity in crime, and show a forehead All unabash'd. I recognize my madness, Recall it all. These vaulted roofs, methinks, These walls can speak, and, ready to accuse me, Wait but my husband's presence to reveal My perfidy. Death only can remove This weight of horror. Is it such misfortune To cease to live? Death causes no alarm To misery. I only fear the name That I shall leave behind me. For my sons How sad a heritage! The blood of Jove Might justly swell the pride that boasts descent From Heav'n, but heavy weighs a mother's guilt Upon her offspring. Yes, I dread the scorn That will be cast on them, with too much truth, For my disgrace. I tremble when I think That, crush'd beneath that curse, they'll never dare To raise their eyes.

OENONE Doubt not I pity both; Never was fear more just than yours. Why, then, Expose them to this ignominy? Why Will you accuse yourself? You thus destroy The only hope that's left; it will be said That Phaedra, conscious of her perfidy, Fled from her husband's sight. Hippolytus Will be rejoiced that, dying, you should lend His charge support. What can I answer him?

He'll find it easy to confute my tale, And I shall hear him with an air of triumph To every open ear repeat your shame.

Sooner than that may fire from heav'n consume me!

Deceive me not. Say, do you love him still?

How look you now on this contemptuous prince?

PHAEDRA As on a monster frightful to mine eyes.

OENONE Why yield him, then, an easy victory?

You fear him? Venture to accuse him first, As guilty of the charge which he may bring This day against you. Who can say 'tis false?

All tells against him: in your hands his sword Happily left behind, your present trouble, Your past distress, your warnings to his father, His exile which your earnest pray'rs obtain'd.

PHAEDRA What! Would you have me slander innocence?

OENONE My zeal has need of naught from you but silence.

Like you I tremble, and am loath to do it; More willingly I'd face a thousand deaths, But since without this bitter remedy I lose you, and to me your life outweighs All else, I'll speak. Theseus, howe'er enraged Will do no worse than banish him again.

A father, when he punishes, remains A father, and his ire is satisfied With a light sentence. But if guiltless blood Should flow, is not your honour of more moment?

A treasure far too precious to be risk'd?

You must submit, whatever it dictates; For, when our reputation is at stake, All must be sacrificed, conscience itself.

But someone comes. 'Tis Theseus.