University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

Enter Phædra, Lycon, & Ismena.
[Enter Mess.
Mess.
Madam, the Prince Hippolitus attends.

Phæd.
Admit him: Where, where Phædra's now thy Soul?
What—Shall I speak? and shall my guilty Tongue
Let this insulting Victor know his Pow'r?
Or shall I still confine within my Breast
My restless Passions and devouring Flames?
But see he comes, the lovely Tyrant comes,
He rushes on me like a Blaze of Light,
I cannot bear the Transport of his Presence,
But sink oppress'd with Woe.

[Swoons.
Enter Hippolitus.
Hip.
Immortal Gods!
What have I done to raise such strange Abhorrence?
What have I done to shake her shrinking Nature
With my Approach, and kill her with my sight?

Lyc.
Alas, another Grief devours her Soul,
And only your Assistance can relieve her.

Hip.
Hah! Make it known, that I may fly and aid her.

Lyc.
But promise first, my Lord, to keep it secret.

Hip.
Promise! I swear, on this good Sword I swear,
This Sword, which first gain'd youthful Theseus Honour;
Which oft has punish'd Perjury and Falshood;
By thund'ring Jove, by Græcian Hercules,
By the Majestick Form of Godlike Heroes,
That shine around, and consecrate the Steel;
No Racks, no Shame shall ever force it from me.

Phæd.
Hippolitus!

Hip.
Yes, 'tis that Wretch who begs you to dismiss
This hated Object from your Eyes for ever.
Begs leave to march against the Foes of Theseus,
And to revenge or share his Father's Fate.

Phæd.
Oh, Hippolitus!
I own I've wrong'd you, most unjustly wrong'd you,
Drove you from Court, from Crete, and from your Father;
The Court, all Crete deplor'd their suffering Hero,
And I (the sad Occasion) most of all.
Yet could you know relenting Phædra's Soul,
Oh could you think with what reluctant Grief
I wrong'd the Hero, whom I wish'd to cherish!
Oh! you'd confess me wretched, not unkind,
And own those Ills did most deserve your Pity,
Which most procur'd your Hate.

Hip.
My Hate to Phædra!
Ha! could I hate the Royal Spouse of Theseus,
My Queen, my Mother?

Phæd.
Why your Queen and Mother?
All humble Titles suit my lost Condition;
Alas! the Iron Hand of Death is on me,
And I have only time t'implore your Pardon:
Ah! would my Lord forget injurious Phædra,
And with Compassion view her helpless Orphan!
Would he receive him to his dear Protection,
Defend his Youth from all encroaching Foes!

Hip.
Oh, I'll defend him! with my Life defend him!
Heavens dart your Judgments on this faithless Head,
If I don't pay him all a Slave's Obedience,
And all a Father's Love.

Phæd.
A Fathers Love!
Oh doubtful Sounds! oh vain deceitful Hopes!
My Grief's much eas'd by this transcending Goodness,
And Theseus Death sits lighter on my Soul:
Death! He's not dead! he lives, he breaths, he speaks,
He lives in you, he's present to my Eyes,
I see him, speak to him, my Heart! I rave
And all my Folly's known.

Hip.
Oh! glorious Folly!
See Theseus, see, how much your Phædra lov'd you.

Phæd.
Love him, indeed! dote, languish, dye for him,
Forsake my Food, my Sleep, all Joyes for Theseus,
(But not that Hoary venerable Theseus,)
But Theseus, as he was, when mantling Blood,
Glow'd in his lovely Cheeks; when his bright Eyes
Sparkl'd with youthful Fires; when ev'ry Grace
Shone in the Father, which now crowns the Son;
When Theseus was Hippolitus.

Hip.
Ha! Amazement strikes me;
Where will this end?

Lyc.
Is't difficult to guess?
Does not her flying Paleness that but now
Sat cold and languid in her fading Cheek,
(Where now succeeds a momentary Lustre,)
Does not her beating Heart, her trembling Limbs,
Her wishing Looks, her Speech, her present Silence,
All, all proclaim imperial Phædra loves you.

Hip.
What do I hear! what, does no lightning Flash,
No Thunder bellow, when such monstrous Crimes,
Are own'd, avow'd, confest? All-seeing Sun,
Hide, hide in shameful Night, thy beamy Head,
And cease to view the Horrors of thy Race:
Alas! I share th'amazing Guilt; these Eyes
That first inspir'd the black incestuous Flame,
These Ears that heard the Tale of impious Love,
Are all accurst, and all deserve your Thunder.

Phæd.
Alas, my Lord! believe me not so vile,
No by thy Goddess, by the chaste Diana,
None but my first, my much lov'd Lord Arsamnes
Was e're receiv'd in these unhappy Arms.
No! for the Love of thee, of those dear Charms,
Which now I see are doom'd to be my Ruin,
I still deny'd my Lord, my Husband Theseus,
The chaste, the modest Joys of spotless Marriage;
That drove him hence to War, to stormy Seas,
To Rocks and Waves less cruel than his Phædra.

Hip.
If that drove Theseus hence, then that kill'd Theseus,
And cruel Phædra kill'd her Husband Theseus.

Phæd.
Forbear, rash Youth, nor dare to rouse my Vengeance;
You need not urge, nor tempt my swelling Rage
With black Reproaches, Scorn and Provocation
To do a Deed my Reason would abhor.
Long has the Secret struggled in my Breast,
Long has it rack'd and rent my tortur'd Bosom,
But now 'tis out; Shame, Rage, Confusion tear
And drive me on to act unheard-of Crimes,
To murther thee, my self, and all that know it.
As when Convulsions cleave the lab'ring Earth,
Before the dismal Yawn appears, the Ground
Trembles and heaves, the nodding Houses crash;
He's safe that from the dreadful Warning flys,
But he that sees it's opening Bosom dyes.

[Exit.
Hip.
Then let me take the Warning and retire,
I'd rather trust the rough Ionian Waves
Than Woman's fiercer Rage.

[Ismena shews her self listning.
Lyc.
Alas, my Lord,
You must not leave the Queen to her Despair.

Hip.
Must not! from thee! from that vile upstart Lycon.

Lyc.
Yes; from that Lycon who derives his Greatness
From Phædra's Race, and now would guard her Life:
Then, Sir, forbear, and view this Royal Signet,
And in her faithful Slave obey the Queen.
[Enter Guards
Guards, watch the Prince, but at that awful Distance,
With that Respect it may not seem Confinement,
But only meant for Honour.

Hip.
So, Confinement is
The Honour Crete bestows on Theseus Son.
Am I confin'd! and is't so soon forgot
When fierce Procrustes Arms o'erran your Kingdom?
When your Streets Echo'd with the Cries of Orphans,
Your shrieking Maids clung round the hallow'd Shrines;
When all your Palaces and lofty Towers
Smoak'd on the Earth, when the red Sky around
Glow'd with your City's Flames (a dreadful Lustre):
Then, then my Father flew to your Assistance;
Then Theseus sav'd your Lives, Estates and Honours,
And do you thus reward the Hero's Toil?
And do you now confine the Hero's Son?

Lyc.
Take not an easie short Confinement ill,
Which your own Safety and the Queen's requires;
But fear not ought from one that joys to serve you.

Hip.
O, I disdain thee, Traitor, but not fear thee,
Nor will I hear of Services from Lycon.
Thy very Looks are Lies, eternal Falshood
Smiles in thy Lips and flatters in thy Eyes;
Ev'n in thy humble Face I read my Ruin
In ev'ry cringing Bow and fawning Smile:
Why else d'you whisper out your dark Suspicions?
Why with malignant Elogies encrease
The Peoples Fears, and praise me to my Ruin?
Why through the troubl'd Streets of frighted Gnossus
Do Bucklers, Helms and polish'd Armor blaze?
Why sounds the dreadful Din of instant War?
Whilst still the Foe's unknown.

Lyc.
Then quit thy Arts.
Put off the States-man and resume the Judge.
[Aside.
Thou Proteus shift thy various Forms no more,
But boldly own the God.—That Foe's too near;
[To Hip.
The Queens Disease, and your aspiring Mind
Disturb all Crete, and give a Loose to War.

Hip.
Gods! dare he speak thus to a Monarch's Son?
And must this Earth-born Slave command in Crete?
Was it for this my God-like Father fought?
Did Theseus bleed for Lycon? O ye Cretans,
See there your King, the Successor of Minos,
And Heir of Jove.

Lyc.
You may as well provoke
That Jove you worship, as this Slave you scorn.
Go seize Alcmæon, Nicias, and all
The black Abettors of his impious Treason.
Now o'er-thy Head th'avenging Thunder roles;
For know on me depends thy instant Doom.
Then learn (Proud Prince) to bend thy haughty Soul,
And if thou think'st of Life obey the Queen.

Hip.
Then free from Fear or Guilt I'll wait my Doom,
What e'ers my Fault no Stain shall blot my Glory.
I'l guard my Honour, you dispose my Life;
[Ex. Lyc. and Crat.
Since he dares brave my Rage the Danger's near.
The timorous Hounds that hunt the generous Lyon
Bay afar off, and tremble in pursuit;
But when he struggles in th'entangling Toils,
Insult the dying Prey.—'Tis kindly done, Ismena,
[Ism. Enters.
With all your Charms to visit my Distress;
Soften my Chains, and make Confinement easie.
Is it then giv'n me to behold thy Beauties!
Those blushing Sweets, those lovely loving Eyes!
To press, to strain thee to my beating Heart,
And grow thus to my Love! What's Liberty to this?
What's Fame or Greatness? Take 'em, take 'em, Phædra,
Freedom and Fame, and in the dear Confinement
Enclose me thus for ever.

Ism.
O Hippolitus!
O I could ever dwell in this Confinement!
Nor wish for ought while I behold my Lord;
But yet that Wish, that only Wish is vain,
When my hard Fate thus forces me to beg you
Drive from your God-like Soul a wretched Maid,
Take to your Arms (assist me Heaven to speak it.)
Take to your Arms Imperial Phædra,
And think of me no more.

Hip.
Not think of thee!
What! part, for ever part! unkind Ismena!
Oh! can you think that Death is half so dreadful
As it would be to live, and live without thee?
Say, should I quit thee, should I turn to Phædra,
Say, could'st thou bear it? could thy tender Soul
Endure the Torment of despairing Love,
And see me settled in a Rival's Arms?

Ism.
Think not of me, perhaps my equal mind
May learn to bear the Fate the Gods allot me.
Yet would you hear me, could your lov'd Ismena
With all her Charms o'erule your sullen Honour,
You yet might live, nor leave the poor Ismena.

Hip.
Speak, if I can, I'm ready to obey.

Ism.
Give the Queen hopes.

Hip.
No more—my Soul disdains it.
No, should I try, my haughty Soul would swell;
Sharpen each Word, and threaten in my Eyes.
O! should I stoop to cringe, to lye, forswear,
Deserve the Ruin which I strive to shun?

Ism.
O, I can't bear this cold Contempt of Death!
This rigid Vertue that prefers your Glory
To Liberty or Life. O cruel Man!
By these sad Sighs, by these poor streaming Eyes,
By that dear Love that makes us now unhappy,
By the near Danger of that precious Life,
Heav'n knows I value much above my own.
What! not yet mov'd? Are you resolv'd on Death?
Then, e'er 'tis Night I swear by all the Pow'rs
This Steel shall end my Fears and Life together.

Hip.
You shan't be trusted with a Life so precious.
No, to the Court I'll publish your Design,
Ev'n bloody Lycon will prevent your Fate;
Lycon shall wrench the Dagger from your Bosom,
And raving Phædra will preserve Ismena.

Ism.
Phædra! Come on, I'll lead you on to Phædra;
I'll tell her all the Secrets of our Love,
Give to her Rage her close destructive Rival;
Her Rival sure will fall, her Love may save you.
Come see me labour in the Pangs of Death,
My agonizing Limbs, my dying Eyes,
Dying, yet fixt in Death on my Hippolitus.

Hip.
What's your Design? Ye Powers! What means my Love?

Ism.
She means to lead you in the Road of Fate,
She means to dye with one she can't preserve.
Yet when you see me pale upon the Earth,
This once lov'd Form grown horrible in Death,
Sure your relenting Soul would wish you'd sav'd me.

Hip.
Oh! I'll do all, do any thing to save you,
Give up my Fame and all my darling Honour,
I'll run, I'll fly, what you'll command I'll say.

Ism.
Say what Occasion, Chance, or Heav'n inspires,
Say that you love her, that you lov'd her long,
Say that you'll wed her, say that you'll comply,
Say, to preserve your Life, say any thing.
Bless him, ye Powers! and if it be a Crime,
[Exit Hip.
Oh! if the pious Fraud offend your Justice,
Aim all your Vengeance on Ismena's Head;
Punish Ismena, but forgive Hippolitus.
He's gone, and now my brave Resolves are stagger'd,
Now I repent like some despairing Wretch
That boldly plunges in the frightful Deep,
Then pants, and struggles with the whirling Waves;
And catches every slender Reed to save him.

Cho.
But should he do what your Commands enjoyn'd him,
Say, should he wed her?

Ism.
Should he wed the Queen!
Oh! I'd remember that 'twas my Request,
And dye well pleas'd I made the Heroe happy.

Cho.
Dye! does Ismena then resolve to dye?

Ism.
Can I then live? can I, who lov'd so well
To part with all my Bliss to save my Lover?
Oh! can I drag a wretched Life without him,
And see another revel in his Arms?
Oh 'tis in Death alone I can have Comfort!

Enter Lycon.
Lyc.
What a Reverse is this? perfidious Boy,
Is this thy Truth? is this thy boasted Honour?
Then all are Rogues alike; I never thought
But one Man honest, and that one decives me.
[Aside.
Ismena here!—
'Tis all agreed, and now the Prince is safe
From the sure Vengeance of despairing Love.
Now Phædra's Rage is chang'd to soft Endearments,
She doats, she dyes; and few, but tedious Days,
With endless Joys will crown the happy Pair.

Ism.
Does he then wed the Queen?

Lyc.
At least I think so.
I, when the Prince approach'd, not far retir'd
Pale with my Doubts; he spoke; th'attentive Queen
Dwelt on his Accents, and her gloomy Eyes
Sparkled with gentler Fires: He blushing bow'd,
She trembling, lost in Love, with soft Confusion
Receiv'd his Passion and return'd her own:
Then smiling turn'd to me, and bid me order
The pompous Rights of her ensuing Nuptials,
Which I must now pursue. Farewell Ismena.

[Exit.
Ism.
Then I'll retire, and not disturb their Joys.

Cho.
Stay and learn more.

Ism.
Ah! wherefore should I stay?
What! shall! I stay to rave, t'upbraid, to hold him,
To snatch the struggling Charmer from her Arms?
For could you think that open gen'rous Youth
Could with feign'd Love deceive a jealous Woman?
Could he so soon grow artful in dissembling?
Ah! without doubt his Thoughts inspired his Tongue,
And all his Soul receiv'd a real Love.
Perhaps new Graces darted from her Eyes,
Perhaps soft Pity charm'd his yielding Soul,
Perhaps her Love, perhaps her Kingdom charm'd him;
Perhaps alas! how many things might charm him!

Cho.
Wait the Success, it is not yet decided.

Ism.
Not yet decided! Did not Lycon tell us
How he protested, sigh'd, and look'd, and vow'd;
How the soft Passion languish'd in his Eyes?
Yes, yes, he loves, he doats on Phædra's Charms.
Now, now he clasps her to his panting Breast,
Now he devours her with his eager Eyes,
Now grasps her Hands, and now he looks, and vows
The dear false things that charm'd the poor Ismena.
He comes; be still, my Heart, the Tyrant comes,
Charming, tho' false, and lovely in his Guilt.

Enter Hippolitus.
Hip.
Why hangs that cloudy Sorrow on your Brow?
Why do you sigh? why flow your swelling Eyes,
Those Eyes that us'd with Joy to view Hippolitus.

Ism.
My Lord, my Soul is charm'd with your Success;
You know, my Lord, my Fears are but for you,
For your dear Life; and since my death alone
Can make you safe, that soon shall make you happy.
Yet had you brought less Love to Phædra's Arms,
My Soul had parted with a less Regret,
Blest if surviving in your dear Remembrance.

Hip.
Your Death! My Love! My Marriage! and to Phædra!
Hear me, Ismena.

Ism.
No I dare not hear you.
But tho' you've been thus cruelly unkind,
Tho' you have left me for the Royal Phædra,
Yet still my Soul o'er runs with Fondness t'wards thee,
Yet still I dye with Joy to save Hippolitus.

Hip.
Dye to save me! Could I outlive Ismena?

Ism.
Yes, you'd outlive her in your Phædra's Arms,
And may you there find ev'ry blooming Pleasure;
Oh, may the Gods show'r Blessings on thy Head!
May the Gods crown thy glorious Arms with Conquest,
And all thy peaceful Days with sure Repose:
May'st thou be blest with lovely Phædra's Charms,
And for thy Ease forget the lost Ismena.
Farewell, Hippolitus.

Hip.
Ismena stay,
Stay, here me speak, or by th'infernal Powers
I'll not survive the Minute you depart.

Ism.
What would you say? ah! don't deceive my Weakness.

Hip.
Deceive thee! why, Ismena, do you wrong me?
Why doubt my Faith? O lovely, cruel Maid!
Why wound my tender Soul with harsh Suspicion!
Oh! by those charming Eyes, by thy dear Love,
I neither thought nor spoke, design'd nor promis'd
To love, or wed the Queen.

Ism.
Speak on, my Lord,
My honest Soul inclines me to believe thee;
And much I fear, and much I hope I've wrong'd thee.

Hip.
Then thus. I came and spake, but scarce of Love;
The easie Queen receiv'd my faint Address
Whith eager Hope and unsuspicious Faith.
Lycon with seeming Joy dismiss'd my Guards,
My gen'rous Soul disdain'd the mean Deceit,
But still deceiv'd her to obey Ismena.

Ism.
Art thou then true? Thou art. Oh pardon me,
Pardon the Errors of a silly Maid,
Wild with her Fears, and mad with Jealousie;
For still that Fear, that Jealousie was Love.
Haste then, my Lord, and save your self by Flight;
And when you're absent, when your God-like Form
Shall cease to chear forlorn Ismena's Eyes,
Then let each Day, each Hour, each Minute bring
Some kind Remembrance of your constant Love;
Speak of your Health, your Fortune, and your Friends,
(For sure those Friends shall have my tender'st wishes)
Speak much of all; but of thy dear, dear Love,
Speak much, speak very much, and still speak on.

Hip.
Oh! thy dear Love shall ever be my Theme,
Of that alone I'll talk the live long Day;
But thus I'll talk, thus dwelling in thy Eyes,
Tasting the Odours of thy fragrant Bosom.
Come then to crown me with immortal Joys,
Come, be the kind Companion of my Flight,
Come haste with me to leave this fatal Shore.
The Bark before prepar'd for my Departure
Expects its Freight, a hundred lusty Rowers
Have bar'd their sinewy Arms, and call'd Hippolitus;
The loosen'd Canvas trembles with the Wind,
And the Sea whitens with auspicious Gales.

Ism.
Fly then, my Lord, and may the Gods protect thee
Fly, e'er insidious Lycon work thy Ruin,
Fly, e'er my Fondness talk thy Life away;
Fly from the Queen.

Hip.
But not from my Ismena.
Why do you force me from your heav'nly sight,
With those dear Arms that ought to clasp me to thee?

Ism.
Oh I could rave for ever at my Fate!
And with alternate Love and Fear possess'd,
Now force thee from my Arms, now snatch thee t'my Breast,
And tremble till you go, but dye till you return.
Nay I could go; ye Gods, if I should go,
What would Fame say? if I should fly alone
With a young lovely Prince that charm'd my Soul?

Hip.
Say you did well to fly a certain Ruin,
To fly the Fury of a Queen incens'd,
To crown with endless Joys the Youth that lov'd you.
O! by the Joys our mutual Loves have brought,
By the blest Hours I've languish'd at your Feet,
By all the Love you ever bore Hippolitus,
Come fly from hence and make him ever happy.

Ism.
Hide me, ye Pow'rs; I never shall resist.

Hip.
Will you refuse me? Can I leave behind me
All that inspires my Soul and chears my Eyes?
Will you not go? Then here I'll wait my Doom.
Come, raving Phædra, bloody Lycon come;
I offer to your Rage this worthless Life,
Since 'tis no longer my Ismena's Care.

Ism.
O! hast away, my Lord, I go, I fly
Thro' all the Dangers of the boist'rous Deep.
When the Wind whistles thro' the crackling Masts,
When thro' the yawning Ship the foaming Sea
Rowls bubbling in; then, then I'll clasp thee fast,
And in transporting Love forget my Fear.
Oh! I will wander thro' the Scythian Gloom,
O'er Ice, and Hills of everlasting Snow:
There when the horrid Darkness shall enclose us,
When the bleak Wind shall chill my shiv'ring Limbs,
Thou shalt alone supply the distant Sun,
And chear my gazing Eyes, and warm my Heart.

Hip.