University of Virginia Library

ACT III.

Enter Lycon.
Lyc.
Heav'n is at last appeas'd: the pitying Gods
Have heard our Wishes, and auspicious Jove
Smiles on his Native Isle; for Phædra lives,
Restor'd to Crete, and to her self, she lives;
Joy with fresh Strength inspires her drooping Limbs,
Revives her Charms, and o'er her faded Cheeks
Spreads a fresh rosie Bloom, as kindly Springs
With genial Heat renew the frozen Earth,
And paint its smiling Face with gawdy Flow'rs.
But see she comes, the beaut'ous Phædra comes.
Enter Phædra.
How her Eyes sparkle! how their radiant Beams
Confess their shining Ancestor the Sun!
Your Charms to Day will wound despairing Crowds,
And give the Pains you suffer'd: Nay, Hippolitus
The fierce, the brave, th'insensible Hippolitus
Shall pay a willing Homage to your Beauty,
And in his turn adore—

Phæd.
'Tis Flatt'ry all;
Yet when you name the Prince, that Flatt'ry's pleasing.
You wish it so, poor good old Man, you wish it.
The fertile Province of Cydonia's thine;
Is there ought else? has happy Phædra ought
In the wide Circle of her far stretch'd Empire?
Ask, take, my Friend, secure of no Repulse?
Let spacious Crete thro' all her hundred Cities
Resound her Phædra's Joy. Let Altars smoak,
And richest Gums, and Spice, and Incense roll
Their fragrant Wreaths to Heav'n, to pitying Heav'n,
Which gives Hippolitus to Phædra's Arms.
Set all at large, and bid the loathsom Dungeons
Give up the meagre Slaves that pine in Darkness,
And waste in Grief, as did despairing Phædra:
Let them be chear'd, let the starv'd Prisoners riot,
And glow with gen'rous Wine.—Let Sorrow cease.
Let none be wretched, none, since Phædra's happy.
But now he comes! and with an equal Passion
Rewards my Flame, and springs into my Arms.
Enter Messenger.
Say, where's the Prince?

Mess.
He's no where to be found.

Phæd.
Perhaps he hunts.

Mess.
He hunted not to Day.

Phæd.
Ha! have you search'd the Courts, the Temples?

Mess.
Search'd all in vain.

Phæd.
Did he not hunt to Day?
Alas! you told me once before he did not:
My Heart misgives me.

Lyc.
So indeed doth mine.

Phæd.
Cou'd he deceive me? Cou'd that Godlike Youth
Design the Ruin of a Queen that loves him?
Oh! he's all Truth, his Words, his Looks, his Eyes
Open to view his inmost Thoughts.—He comes!
Ha! who art thou? Whence com'st thou? Where's Hippolitus?

Mess.
Madam, Hippolitus with fair Ismena
Drove tow'rd the Port—

Phæd.
With fair Ismena!
Curs'd be her cruel Beauty, curst her Charms,
Curst all her soothing, fatal, false Endearments.
That heav'nly Virgin, that exalted Goodness
Cou'd see me tortur'd with despairing Love,
With artful Tears cou'd mourn my monstrous Suff'rings,
While her base Malice plotted my Destruction.

Lyc.
A thousand Reasons croud upon my Soul,
That evidence their Love.

Phæd.
Yes, yes, they love;
Why else should he refuse my proffer'd Bed?
Why should one warm'd with Youth, and Thirst of Glory,
Disdain a Soul, a Form, a Crown like mine?

Lyc.
Where, Lycon, where was then thy boasted cunning?
Dull, thoughtless Wretch.

Phæd.
O Pains unfelt before!
The Grief, Despair, the Agonies, and Pangs,
All the wild Fury of distracted Love,
Are nought to this.—Say, famous Politician,
Where, when, and how did their first Passion rise?
Where did they breath their Sighs? what shady Groves?
What gloomy Woods conceal'd their hidden Loves?
Alas! they hid it not, the well pleas'd Sun
With all his Beams survey'd their guiltless Flame;
Glad Zephyrs wafted their untainted Sighs,
And Ida eccho'd their endearing Accents:
While I, the Shame of Nature, hid in Darkness,
Far from the balmy Air and cheering Light,
Prest down my Sighs, and dry'd my falling Tears,
Searcht a Retreat to mourn, and watcht to grieve.

Lyc.
Now cease that Grief, and let your injur'd Love
Contrive due Vengeance; let majestick Phædra
That lov'd the Hero sacrifice the Villain.
Then haste, send forth your Ministers of Vengeance,
To snatch the Traytor from your Rival's Arms,
And force him trembling to your awful Presence.

Phæd.
O rightly thought—Dispatch th'attending Guards,
Bid them bring forth their Instruments of Death;
Darts, Engines, Flames, and lanch into the deep,
And hurl swift Vengeance on the perjur'd Slave.
Where am I, Gods? what is't my Rage Commands?
Ev'n now he's gone? Ev'n now the well tim'd Oars
With sounding Stroaks divide the sparkling Waves,
And happy Gales assist their speedy Flight.
Now they embrace, and ardent Love enflames
Their flushing Cheeks, and trembles in their Eyes.
Now they expose my Weakness and my Crimes,
Now to the sporting Crowd they tell my Follies.

Enter Cratander.
Crat.
Sir, as I went to seize the Persons order'd
I met the Prince, and with him fair Ismena;
I seiz'd the Prince, who now attends without.

Phæd.
Haste, bring him in.

Lyc.
Be quick and seize Ismena.

Enter Hippolitus.
Phæd.
Cou'dst thou deceive me? cou'd a Son of Theseus
Stoop to so mean, so base a Vice as Fraud?
Nay, act such monstrous Perfidy, yet start
From promis'd Love.

Hip.
My Soul disdain'd a Promise.

Phæd.
But yet your false equivocating Tongue,
Your Looks, your Eyes, your ev'ry Motion promis'd.
But you are ripe in Frauds, and learn'd in Falshoods.
Look down, O Theseus, and behold thy Son,
As Sciron faithless, as Procrustes cruel.
Behold the Crimes, the Tyrants, all the Monsters,
From which thy Valour purg'd the groaning Earth:
Behold them all in thy own Son reviv'd.

Hip.
Touch not my Glory, lest you stain your own,
I still have strove to make my glorious Father
Blush, yet rejoyce to see himself outdone;
To mix my Parents in my lineal Vertues,
As Theseus just, and as Camilla chast.

Phæd.
The Godlike Theseus never was thy Parent.
No, 'Twas some Monthly Cappadocian Drudge,
Obedient to the Scourge, and beaten to her Arms,
Begot thee, Traytor, on the chast Camilla.
Camilla chast! an Amazon and chast!
That quits her Sex and yet retains her Vertue.
See the chast Matron mount the neighing Steed;
In strict Embraces lock the strugling Warriour,
And choose the Lover in the sturdy Foe.

Enter Messenger and seems to talk earnestly with Lycon.
Hip.
No; she refus'd the Vows of Godlike Theseus,
And chose to stand his Arms, not meet his Love;
And doubtful was the Fight. The wide Thermodoon
Heard the huge Stroaks resound, its frighted Waves
Convey'd the ratt'ling din to distant Shores,
Whilst she alone supported all his War:
Nor till she sank beneath his thund'ring Arm,
Beneath which, warlike Nations bow'd, wou'd yield
To honest wisht for Love.

Phæd.
Not so her Son,
Who boldly ventures on forbidden Flames,
On one descended from the cruel Pallas,
Foe to thy Father's Person and his Blood;
Hated by him, of Kindred yet more hated,
The last of all the wicked Race he ruin'd.
In vain a fierce successive Hatred reign'd
Between your Sires: In vain, like Cadmus Race,
With mingl'd Blood they dy'd the blushing Earth.

Hip.
In vain indeed, since now the War is o'er;
We, like the Theban Race, agree to love,
And by our mutual Flames and future Offspring,
Atone for Slaughter past.

Phæd.
Your future Offspring.
Heav'ns! What a medly's this? What dark Confusion,
Of Blood and Death, of Murder and Relation?
What Joy 't had been to old disabled Theseus,
When he should take the Offspring in his Arms?
Ev'n in his Arms to hold an Infant Pallas,
And be upbraided with his Gransire's Fate.
Oh barb'rous Youth!

Lyc.
Too barbarous I fear.
Perhaps ev'n now his Faction's up in Arms,
Since waving Crowds roll onwards tow'rds the Palace,
And rend the City with tumultuous Clamours!
Perhaps to murder Phædra and her Son,
And give the Crown to him and his Ismena:
But I'll prevent it.

[Exit Lycon.
Ismena brought in.
Phæd.
What! the kind Ismena
That nurs'd me, watch'd my Sickness; oh she watch'd me!
As rav'nous Vultures watch the dying Lyon,
To tear his Heart and riot in his Blood.
Hark! hark my little Infant cryes for Justice!
Oh! be appeas'd my Babe, thou shalt have Justice.
Now all the Spirits of my Godlike Race
Enflame my Soul and urge me on to Vengeance.
Arsamnes, Minos, Jove, th'avenging Sun
Inspire my Fury and require my Justice.
Oh! you shall have it, thou, Minos, shalt applaud it;
Yes thou shalt copy it in their Pains below.
Gods of Revenge arise.—He comes! he comes!
And shoots himself thro' all my kindling Blood.
I have it here.—Now base persidious Wretch,
Now sigh, and Weep, and tremble in thy turn.
Yes, your Ismena shall appease my Vengeance.
Ismena dies: and thou her pitying Lover
Doom'dst her to Death.—Thou too shalt see her bleed;
See her convulsive Pangs, and hear her dying Groans;
Go, glut thy Eyes with thy ador'd Ismena,
And laugh at dying Phædra.

Hip.
Oh Ismena!

Ism.
Alas! my tender Soul wou'd shrink at Death,
Shake with its Fears, and sink beneath its Pains,
In any Cause but this.—But now I'm steel'd,
And the near Danger lessens to my sight.
Now, if I live, 'tis only for Hippolitus,
And with an equal Joy I'll dye to save him.
Yes, for his Sake I'll go a willing Shade,
And wait his coming in th'Elysium Fields,
And there enquire of each descending Ghost
Of my lov'd Heroe's Welfare, Life, and Honour.
That dear Remembrance will improve the Bliss;
Add to th'Elysian Joys, and make that Heav'n more happy.

Hip.
Oh heav'nly Virgin! [Aside.]
Oh imperial Phædra!
Let your Rage fall on this devoted Head;
But spare! oh spare a guiltless Virgins Life:
Think of her Youth, her Innocence, her Virtue;
Think with what warm Compassion she bemoans you,
Think how she serv'd and watch'd you in your Sickness;
How ev'ry rising and descending Sun
Saw kind Ismena watching o'er the Queen.
I only promis'd, I alone deceiv'd you;
And I, and only I, shou'd feel your Justice.

Ism.
Oh! by these Pow'rs, to whom I soon must answer
For all my Faults, by that bright Arch of Heav'n
I now last see, I wrought him by my Wiles,
By Tears, by Threats, by ev'ry Female Art,
Wrought his disdaining Soul to false Complyance.
The Son of Theseus could not think of Fraud,
'Twas Woman all.

Phæd.
I see 'twas Woman all,
And Womans Fraud shou'd meet with Womans Vengeance,
But yet thy Courage, Truth, and Vertue shock me:
A Love so warm, so firm, so like my own.
Oh! had the Gods so pleas'd; had bounteous Heav'n
Bestow'd Hippolitus on Phædra's Arms,
So had I stood the shock of angry Fate;
So had I giv'n my Life with Joy to save him.

Hip.
And can you doom her Death? can Minos Daughter
Condemn the Virtue which her Soul admires?
Are not you Phædra? once the boast of Fame,
Shame of our Sex, and Pattern of your own.

Phæd.
Am I that Phædra? No.—Another Soul
Informs my alter'd Frame. Cou'd else Ismena
Provoke my Hatred, yet deserve my Love?
Aid me, ye Gods, support my sinking Glory,
Restore my Reason, and confirm my Virtue.
Yet, is my Rage unjust? Then why was Phædra
Rescu'd for Torment, and preserv'd for Pain?
Why did you raise me to the heighth of Joy,
Above the wreck of Clouds and Storms below,
To dash and break me on the Ground for ever?

Ism.
Was it not time to urge him to Compliance?
At least to feign it, when perfidious Lycon
Confin'd his Person, and conspir'd his Death.

Phæd.
Confin'd and doom'd to Death—O cruel Lycon!
Cou'd I have doom'd thy Death—Cou'd these sad Eyes
That lov'd thee living e'er behold thee dead?
Yet thou coud'st see me dye without Concern,
Rather than save a wretched Queen from Ruin.
Else cou'd you chuse to trust the warring Winds,
The swelling Waves, the Rocks, the faithless Sands,
And all the raging Monsters of the Deep!
Oh! think you see me on the naked Shoar.
Think how I scream and tear my scatter'd Hair;
Break from th'Embraces of my shrieking Maids,
And harrow on the Sand my bleeding Bosom:
Then catch with wide stretch'd Arms the empty Billows,
And headlong plunge into the gaping Deep.

Hip.
O, dismal State! my bleeding Heart Relents,
And all my Thoughts dissolve in tender'st Pity.

Phæ.
If you can pity, O! refuse not Love;
But stoop to rule in Crete the Seat of Heroes,
And Nursery of Gods—A hundred Cities
Court thee for Lord, where the rich busie Crowds
Struggle for Passage thro' the spacious Streets;
Where thousand Ships o'ershade the less'ning Main,
And tire the lab'ring Wind the suppliant Nations
Bow to its Ensigns, and with lower'd Sails
Confess the Ocean's Queen. For thee alone
The Winds shall blow, and the vast Ocean roll.
For thee alone the fam'd Cydonian Warriours
From twanging Eughs shall send their fatal Shafts.

Hip.
Then let me march their Leader, not their Prince;
And at the Head of your renown'd Cydonians,
Brandish this far fam'd Sword of conqu'ring Theseus;
That I may shake th'Egyptian Tyrants Yoke
From Asia's Neck, and fix it on his own;
That willing Nations may obey your Laws,
And your bright Ancestor the Sun may shine
On nought but Phædra's Empire.

Phæd.
Why not thine?
Dost thou so far detest my proffer'd Bed,
As to refuse my Crown?—O, cruel Youth!
By all the Pain that Wings my tortur'd Soul;
By all the dear deceitful Hopes you gave me,
O! ease, at least once more delude my Sorrows;
For your dear Sake I've lost my darling Honour;
For you, but now I gave my Soul to Death:
For you I'd quit my Crown, and stoop beneath
The happy Bondage of an humble Wife.
With thee I'd climb the steepy Ida's summet,
And in the scorching Heat and chilling Dews,
O'er Hills, o'er Vales pursue the shaggy Lion;
Careless of Danger and of wasting Toil;
Of pinching Hunger and impatient Thirst;
I'd find all Joys in thee.

Hip.
Why stoops the Queen
To ask, intreat, to supplicate and pray,
To prostitute her Crown and Sexes Honour;
To one whose humble Thoughts can only rise
To be your Slave, not Lord?

Phæd.
And is that all:
Gods! does he deign to force an artful Groan?
Or call a Tear from his unwilling Eyes.
Hard as his native Rocks, cold as his Sword,
Fierce as the Wolves that howl around his Birth,
He hates the Tyrant, and the Suppliant scorns.
O Heav'n! O Minos! O imperial Jove!
Do ye not blush at my degenerate Weakness!
Hence lazy, mean, ignoble Passion fly;
Hence from my Soul—Tis gon, 'tis fled for ever,
And Heav'n inspires my Thoughts with righteous Vengeance.
Thou shalt no more despise my offer'd Love;
No more Ismena shall upbraid my Weakness.
[Catches Hip. Sword to stab her self.
Now all ye kindred Gods look down and see
How I'll revenge you, and my self, on Phædra.

Enter Lycon, and snatches away the Sword.
Lyc.
Horror on horror! Theseus is return'd.

Phæd.

[Runs off.
Lyc.
This may do Service yet.

[Exit Lycon, carries off the Sword.
Hip.
Is he return'd? Thanks to the pitying Gods.
Shall I again behold his awful Eyes?
Again be folded in his loving Arms?
Yet in the midst of Joy I fear for Phædra;
I fear his Warmth and unrelenting Justice.
O! should her raging Passion reach his Ears,
His tender Love, by Anger fir'd, wou'd turn
To burning Rage; as soft Cydonian Oyl,
Whose balmy Juice glides o'er th'untasting Tongue,
Yet toucht with Fire, with hottest Flames will blaze.
But oh ye Pow'rs! I see his Godlike Form.
O Extasie of Joy! He comes, he comes!
Is it my Lord? my Father? Oh! 'tis he:
I see him, touch him, feel his known Embraces
See all the Father in his joyful Eyes.
Enter Theseus, with others.
Where have you been, my Lord? What angry Dæmon
Hid you from Crete, from me?—What God has sav'd you?
Did not Philautus see you fall? O answer me!
And then I'll ask a thousand Questions more.

Thes.
No: but to save my Life I feign'd my Death;
My Horse and well known Arms confirm'd the Tale,
And hinder'd farther search. This honest Greek
Conceal'd me in his House, and cur'd my Wounds,
Procur'd a Vessel; and to bless me more,
Accompany'd my Flight.—
But this at Leisure. Let me now indulge
A Father's Fondness; let me snatch thee thus;
Thus fold thee in my Arms: such, such was I
[Embraces Hippolitus.
When first I saw thy Mother, chast Camilla;
And much she lov'd me.—Oh! did Phædra view me
With half that Fondness—But she's still unkind;
Else hasty Joy had brought her to these Arms,
To welcome me to Liberty, to Life;
And make that Life a Blessing. Come, my Son,
Let us to Phædra.

Hip.
Pardon me, my Lord.

Thes.
Forget her former Treatment; she's too good
Still to persist in Hatred to my Son.

Hip.
O! let me fly from Crete,—from you, [Aside.]
and Phædra.

Thes.
My Son, what means this turn? this sudden start?
Why would you fly from Crete, and from your Father?

Hip.
Not from my Father, but from lazy Crete;
To follow Danger, and acquire Renown;
To quell the Monsters that escap'd your Sword,
And make the World confess me Theseus Son.

Thes.