Chapter: SCENE V
          PHAEDRA, HIPPOLYTUS, OENONE


          PHAEDRA (to OENONE)
          There I see him!
          My blood forgets to flow, my tongue to speak
          What I am come to say.

          OENONE
          Think of your son,
          How all his hopes depend on you.

          PHAEDRA
          I hear
          You leave us, and in haste. I come to add
          My tears to your distress, and for a son
          Plead my alarm. No more has he a father,
          And at no distant day my son must witness
          My death. Already do a thousand foes
          Threaten his youth. You only can defend him
          But in my secret heart remorse awakes,
          And fear lest I have shut your ears against
          His cries. I tremble lest your righteous anger
          Visit on him ere long the hatred earn'd
          By me, his mother.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          No such base resentment,
          Madam, is mine.

          PHAEDRA
          I could not blame you, Prince,
          If you should hate me. I have injured you:
          So much you know, but could not read my heart.
          T' incur your enmity has been mine aim.
          The self-same borders could not hold us both;
          In public and in private I declared
          Myself your foe, and found no peace till seas
          Parted us from each other. I forbade
          Your very name to be pronounced before me.
          And yet if punishment should be proportion'd
          To the offence, if only hatred draws
          Your hatred, never woman merited
          More pity, less deserved your enmity.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          A mother jealous of her children's rights
          Seldom forgives the offspring of a wife
          Who reign'd before her. Harassing suspicions
          Are common sequels of a second marriage.
          Of me would any other have been jealous
          No less than you, perhaps more violent.

          PHAEDRA
          Ah, Prince, how Heav'n has from the general law
          Made me exempt, be that same Heav'n my witness!
          Far different is the trouble that devours me!

          HIPPOLYTUS
          This is no time for self-reproaches, Madam.
          It may be that your husband still beholds
          The light, and Heav'n may grant him safe return,
          In answer to our prayers. His guardian god
          Is Neptune, ne'er by him invoked in vain.

          PHAEDRA
          He who has seen the mansions of the dead
          Returns not thence. Since to those gloomy shores
          Theseus is gone, 'tis vain to hope that Heav'n
          May send him back. Prince, there is no release
          From Acheron's greedy maw. And yet, methinks,
          He lives, and breathes in you. I see him still
          Before me, and to him I seem to speak;
          My heart--
          Oh! I am mad; do what I will,
          I cannot hide my passion.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Yes, I see
          The strange effects of love. Theseus, tho' dead,
          Seems present to your eyes, for in your soul
          There burns a constant flame.

          PHAEDRA
          Ah, yes for Theseus
          I languish and I long, not as the Shades
          Have seen him, of a thousand different forms
          The fickle lover, and of Pluto's bride
          The would-be ravisher, but faithful, proud
          E'en to a slight disdain, with youthful charms
          Attracting every heart, as gods are painted,
          Or like yourself. He had your mien, your eyes,
          Spoke and could blush like you, when to the isle
          Of Crete, my childhood's home, he cross'd the waves,
          Worthy to win the love of Minos' daughters.
          What were you doing then? Why did he gather
          The flow'r of Greece, and leave Hippolytus?
          Oh, why were you too young to have embark'd
          On board the ship that brought thy sire to Crete?
          At your hands would the monster then have perish'd,
          Despite the windings of his vast retreat.
          To guide your doubtful steps within the maze
          My sister would have arm'd you with the clue.
          But no, therein would Phaedra have forestall'd her,
          Love would have first inspired me with the thought;
          And I it would have been whose timely aid
          Had taught you all the labyrinth's crooked ways.
          What anxious care a life so dear had cost me!
          No thread had satisfied your lover's fears:
          I would myself have wish'd to lead the way,
          And share the peril you were bound to face;
          Phaedra with you would have explored the maze,
          With you emerged in safety, or have perish'd.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Gods! What is this I hear? Have you forgotten
          That Theseus is my father and your husband?

          PHAEDRA
          Why should you fancy I have lost remembrance
          Thereof, and am regardless of mine honour?

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Forgive me, Madam. With a blush I own
          That I misconstrued words of innocence.
          For very shame I cannot bear your sight
          Longer. I go--

          PHAEDRA
          Ah! cruel Prince, too well
          You understood me. I have said enough
          To save you from mistake. I love. But think not
          That at the moment when I love you most
          I do not feel my guilt; no weak compliance
          Has fed the poison that infects my brain.
          The ill-starr'd object of celestial vengeance,
          I am not so detestable to you
          As to myself. The gods will bear me witness,
          Who have within my veins kindled this fire,
          The gods, who take a barbarous delight
          In leading a poor mortal's heart astray.
          Do you yourself recall to mind the past:
          'Twas not enough for me to fly, I chased you
          Out of the country, wishing to appear
          Inhuman, odious; to resist you better,
          I sought to make you hate me. All in vain!
          Hating me more I loved you none the less:
          New charms were lent to you by your misfortunes.
          I have been drown'd in tears, and scorch'd by fire;
          Your own eyes might convince you of the truth,
          If for one moment you could look at me.
          What is't I say? Think you this vile confession
          That I have made is what I meant to utter?
          Not daring to betray a son for whom
          I trembled, 'twas to beg you not to hate him
          I came. Weak purpose of a heart too full
          Of love for you to speak of aught besides!
          Take your revenge, punish my odious passion;
          Prove yourself worthy of your valiant sire,
          And rid the world of an offensive monster!
          Does Theseus' widow dare to love his son?
          The frightful monster! Let her not escape you!
          Here is my heart. This is the place to strike.
          Already prompt to expiate its guilt,
          I feel it leap impatiently to meet
          Your arm. Strike home. Or, if it would disgrace you
          To steep your hand in such polluted blood,
          If that were punishment too mild to slake
          Your hatred, lend me then your sword, if not
          Your arm. Quick, give't.

          OENONE
          What, Madam, will you do?
          Just gods! But someone comes. Go, fly from shame,
          You cannot 'scape if seen by any thus.




SCENE VI
          HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES


          THERAMENES
          Is that the form of Phaedra that I see
          Hurried away? What mean these signs of sorrow?
          Where is your sword? Why are you pale, confused?

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Friend, let us fly. I am, indeed, confounded
          With horror and astonishment extreme.
          Phaedra--but no; gods, let this dreadful secret
          Remain for ever buried in oblivion.

          THERAMENES
          The ship is ready if you wish to sail.
          But Athens has already giv'n her vote;
          Their leaders have consulted all her tribes;
          Your brother is elected, Phaedra wins.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Phaedra?

          THERAMENES
          A herald, charged with a commission
          From Athens, has arrived to place the reins
          Of power in her hands. Her son is King.

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Ye gods, who know her, do ye thus reward
          Her virtue?

          THERAMENES
          A faint rumour meanwhile whispers
          That Theseus is not dead, but in Epirus
          Has shown himself. But, after all my search,
          I know too well--

          HIPPOLYTUS
          Let nothing be neglected.
          This rumour must be traced back to its source.
          If it be found unworthy of belief,
          Let us set sail, and cost whate'er it may,
          To hands deserving trust the sceptre's sway.

 Phaedra is hesitant and trembling, telling Oenone in an aside that she has forgotten everything she meant to say. Oenone reminds her that her son's fate depends upon her skill in handling Hippolytus, and when she confronts him, she addresses him with all the dignity of a queen. Hippolytus, she says, has lost a father, she a husband; but she has further cause for grief. Her son is fatherless, and she herself is soon to die and leave him defenseless among enemies. Who will protect him, if not his stepbrother? But she fears that by her past harshness to Hippolytus she has turned him against her son. Hippolytus denies it, and Phaedra intensifies her appeal. It is true that she has sought to have Hippolytus exiled, forbidden anyone to speak his name in her hearing; but this is not because she hates him. Hippolytus accepts this statement. It is natural, he observes, for a stepmother to defend the rights of her own children against her stepson. Any other woman would have behaved in the same way and might have treated him more unkindly. Phaedra, tormented by his misunderstanding of her true feelings, cries out that she had no such motive; she has a totally different feeling. Hippolytus cuts her off abruptly; after all, he says, she may be troubling herself over nothing; Theseus may still be alive. Unable to win him to her son's cause without telling the truth, Phaedra embarks on a final plea which rapidly becomes a half-concealed declaration of her love. Theseus will never return, she says, but for her he is not dead; even at this moment he seems to stand before her, and her heart speaks with every word she says to him. Hippolytus is startled and replies that her love for her husband no doubt makes her see him everywhere. Phaedra replies, "Yes, Prince, I languish, I burn . . . for Theseus." Not Theseus as he was, however, unfaithful and amorous; but faithful, proud, shy, charming, young -- like the gods, or like Hippolytus. Why, she cries, was it not Hippolytus instead of Theseus who came to Crete to fight the Minotaur, and she instead of Ariadne who had the good fortune to save him? Hippolytus, staggered, reminds her that she is the wife of Theseus and that she is talking to his son, and for a moment Phaedra regains control. Hippolytus apologizes and, embarrassed, seeks to leave. But Phaedra has gone too far to draw back: "I love you," she declares. Not that she approves of her passion; she detests herself even more than he detests her, and it was to avoid the effects of this love that she drove him away. "Come," she invites him, "this frightful monster ought not to escape you. Here is my heart. Strike home!" Or, if he finds her too contemptible to merit death at his hands, she will take his sword and kill herself before him. And she snatches his sword from its sheath. Hippolytus, horrified, hears Theramenes arriving, and with only seconds to act, urges her to go and spare them both an open scandal. Phaedra stumbles offstage on Oenone's arm, the sword still in her hand. Theramenes inquires what has left Hippolytus so shocked, but Hippolytus finds the secret he has just learned is too horrible to repeat. Let it be forgotten. Theramenes tells him his ship is ready for him, but Athens cannot be his destination. The heads of the Athenian tribes have already met and pronounced Phaedra's older son the new king of Athens, with Phaedra as his regent. What is more, a new rumor says that Theseus lives, and is in Epirus. Hippolytus is incredulous. Can it be the will of the gods that this guilty woman should rule Athens? He goes out to seek his father.

