 | Phaedra and Hippolytus |  |
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Act III.
Scene I.
Enter THESEUS return'd from Hell.THESEUS.
From Bounds of endless Night, and that vast Deep,
In whose dark Horrours Souls imprison'd keep,
At length w' are fled.—My Eyes the Light scarce brook,
Four times the Eleusinian Plowman's Hook
The Bounties of Triptolemus hath cut.
As oft in equal Scales hath Libra put
The Day and Night, since I my doubtful Breath,
Drew 'twixt the sad Extreams of Life and Death.
Yet in that Death-like state some Life remain'd,
My Sence in my Afflictions still retain'd;
These Ills their End from great Alcides found;
Who, when from Hell he dragg'd th'infernal Hound,
Me from my Adamantine Chains set free,
And brought along once more his Light to see.
My Limbs not now their former Strength retain,
My Legs beneath me tremble: O what Pain
Was it from the Abyss of Hell to climb.
To this Ætherial World, and at one time
Retreat from Death, and with unequal Pace
The mighty Strides of Hercules to trace!
In whose dark Horrours Souls imprison'd keep,
At length w' are fled.—My Eyes the Light scarce brook,
Four times the Eleusinian Plowman's Hook
The Bounties of Triptolemus hath cut.
As oft in equal Scales hath Libra put
The Day and Night, since I my doubtful Breath,
Drew 'twixt the sad Extreams of Life and Death.
Yet in that Death-like state some Life remain'd,
My Sence in my Afflictions still retain'd;
These Ills their End from great Alcides found;
Who, when from Hell he dragg'd th'infernal Hound,
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And brought along once more his Light to see.
My Limbs not now their former Strength retain,
My Legs beneath me tremble: O what Pain
Was it from the Abyss of Hell to climb.
To this Ætherial World, and at one time
Retreat from Death, and with unequal Pace
The mighty Strides of Hercules to trace!
What sadder Cries are these that strike mine Ears?
Declare some one; what mean these Plaints, these Tears
And mixed Lamentations in our Ports?
Well t'an infernal Guest this Mansion sorts.
Declare some one; what mean these Plaints, these Tears
And mixed Lamentations in our Ports?
Well t'an infernal Guest this Mansion sorts.
Enter NURSE, in haste.
NURSE,
O Sir; an obstinate resolve to part
With her loath'd Life possesses your Queens Heart.
Nor can our Tears or supplicating Breath
Move her one jot, she's wholly bent on Death.
Thes.
What may the cause be? Why will she now dye
When I'm return'd?
Nur.
Ev'n that's the reason why
Her Death she hastens.
Thes.
Thy Words Riddles be,
Whose doubtful Sense conceals some Mystery:
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Nur.
Her secret Ill she will to none confess,
Resolv'd to keep t'her self for what she dies;
Haste, I beseech you, haste, Sir, her Life lies
Upon't—
Thes.
Open the Palace Doors there, oh
My Dear! is this the Welcome thou do'st show?
Thus thy long-lookt-for Spouse do'st entertain.
Throw by that Sword; restore to me again
My frighted Senses, and the Cause relate
Would force thee thus by Death t'anticipate.
Phæd.
By thy imperial Sceptre, by the Grace
And springing Glory of thy hopeful Race,
By thy return, and my determin'd Death,
Permit me to resign my hated Breath.
Thes.
What Cause constrains thee to't?
Phæd.
Should I disclose
The Cause of Death, I should Death's Comfort lose.
Thes.
None but my self shall hear it; dost thou doubt
To trust it to thy Husband's Ear? Speak out;
Close in my faithful Breast thy Words shall sleep.
Phæd.
“If Silence you'd expect, first, Silence keep.
Thes.
I'll take from thee Death's Opportunity.
Phæd.
None can, from one that is resolv'd to dy.
Thes.
The Crime, whose Expiation Death must prove,
Declare.
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'Tis 'cause I live.
Thes.
Do these Tears move
No whit thy harder Heart?
Phæd.
“She happy dies
“Whose Death is waited on by weeping Eyes.
Thes.
She still persists in silence: yet what she
Denies to utter, from her Nurse shall be
By Whips, and clogging Chains enforc'd; in Bands
Of Iron quickly bind her guilty Hands,
And on her Back redoubled Stripes impose,
'Till she this Secret of her Mind disclose.
Phæd.
Hold! I'll confess't my self.
Thes.
Why turn'st aside
Thy sadder Looks? And with thy Veil do'st hide
Thy Tear-dew'd Cheeks?
Phæd.
Be Witness, O thou, Sire,
Of Heaven-thron'd Gods, and thou, whose radiant Fire
Ætherial Light begets: On whose bright Ray
Depends the Lustre of our House and Day.
By no Temptations could we be inclin'd,
Nor could or Threats, or Steel inforce my Mind,
Although my Body suffer'd Violence:
Whose Shame's Pollution now my Blood shall cleanse.
Thes.
What Villain was't durst thus our Honour wrong?
Phæd.
One whom you least imagin should.
Thes.
I long
To hear him nam'd.
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This Sword will tell, which by
Thy brutish Ravisher (with the loud Cry
Of People that came passing to our aid,
Frighted) was left, as hence his Flight he made.
Thes.
What see I, Wretch! what Prodigy behold!
The Royal Ivory markt with Studs of Gold,
Grace of th'Actæan Name; but of his Guilt,
The cursed Evidence, shines in the Hilt.
Where is the Villain fled?
Thæd.
These Servants here
Beheld him swiftly flying, wing'd with Fear.
Thes.
O sacred Piety? O Jove! Who bears
The Rule, and guid'st the Motions of the Sphears.
And thou, who hold'st in Seas the second Reign,
Whence springs the Taint of this accursed Strain?
Seems he in Greece? Or near the Desart Head
Of Taurus? Or the Banks of Phasis bred!
“A vicious Kind to its first Rise turns back,
“And base Blood shews of its foul Spring the Track.
Those fierce Viragoes Venus chaster ties,
And the strict Laws of Wedlock do despise.
Their Virgin Shames exposing to the rude
Embraces of a lustful Multitude.
O the curst Fate of such a vicious Race!
Whose Manners better by no change of Place.
Even Beasts incestuous Coiture disclaim,
The Laws of Kind preserv'd by inbred Shame.
Where's that feign'd manly Look that seem'd t'affect
The Antient Garb and Manners? Grave Aspect?
“Deceitful Life! Who thy hid Sense can find?
“That mask'st with a fair Face, a deform'd Mind.
“The impudent Shames modest Blushes wears,
“The Ruffian Meekness; Irreligion bears
“The shew of Piety; and Truth, Deceit
“Seems to affect; Hardship th'Effeminate
Didst thou reserve thy self for me, thou rude,
And undefil'd Inhabitant o'th' Wood?
And seem'd it fit thy Manhood to begin,
By wronging of my Bed? By such a Sin?
The Rule, and guid'st the Motions of the Sphears.
And thou, who hold'st in Seas the second Reign,
Whence springs the Taint of this accursed Strain?
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Of Taurus? Or the Banks of Phasis bred!
“A vicious Kind to its first Rise turns back,
“And base Blood shews of its foul Spring the Track.
Those fierce Viragoes Venus chaster ties,
And the strict Laws of Wedlock do despise.
Their Virgin Shames exposing to the rude
Embraces of a lustful Multitude.
O the curst Fate of such a vicious Race!
Whose Manners better by no change of Place.
Even Beasts incestuous Coiture disclaim,
The Laws of Kind preserv'd by inbred Shame.
Where's that feign'd manly Look that seem'd t'affect
The Antient Garb and Manners? Grave Aspect?
“Deceitful Life! Who thy hid Sense can find?
“That mask'st with a fair Face, a deform'd Mind.
“The impudent Shames modest Blushes wears,
“The Ruffian Meekness; Irreligion bears
“The shew of Piety; and Truth, Deceit
“Seems to affect; Hardship th'Effeminate
Didst thou reserve thy self for me, thou rude,
And undefil'd Inhabitant o'th' Wood?
And seem'd it fit thy Manhood to begin,
By wronging of my Bed? By such a Sin?
Now, now, I gladly thank the Heavenly Powers,
Antiope fell by this Hand of ours.
That while for Stygian Deeps we were design'd,
We thy own Mother left thee not behind.
Go where thou wilt, to unknown Nations fly,
Get thee to Lands the most remote, that ly
From all the World divided by huge Seas;
Though thou descend to the Antipodes,
Or climb (to find thee out some obscure Hole
To hide thee in) above the high-rais'd Pole.
And see Snows, Storms, and the fierce Northern Wind.
Beneath thee bluster; Vengeance yet shall find
Thee out; through all thy lurking Holes I'll trace
Thee Fugitive, to the most distant place
Where yet no wandring Foot e'er found Access.
Although immur'd within some Rocks Recess;
Dark and abstruse; I'll search and find thee there,
No place shall hinder my Pursuit: And where
Arms cannot reach thee, Curses shall. Do'st know
From whence we came?—Dread Neptune did bestow
This Boon on us, that we Three Pray'rs should make,
To which he'd sign; and by th'adjur'd Lake
Of Styx, confirm'd his Vow. O now make good
This thy sad Gift, thou Ruler of the Flood!
No longer let Hippolytus the Light
Of Day behold; but to the Shades of Night,
Curst by his Father, in Youth's Prime descend.
To me this execrable Aid extend!
Had we not been by weighty Ills opprest,
We never had enforc'd this last Request.
When in Tartarian Deeps by Dis inchain'd,
This Vow we spar'd, from this last Wish abstain'd.
Kind Father, now thy promis'd Boon fulfil.
Why tarry'st thou? Why are the Seas yet still?
Let Cloud-compelling Winds blow Night on Day,
And take the sight of Heav'n and Stars away.
Unsluce the Main, and let the watery Flood
Rise high, and swell; big with a monstrous Brood.
Antiope fell by this Hand of ours.
That while for Stygian Deeps we were design'd,
We thy own Mother left thee not behind.
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Get thee to Lands the most remote, that ly
From all the World divided by huge Seas;
Though thou descend to the Antipodes,
Or climb (to find thee out some obscure Hole
To hide thee in) above the high-rais'd Pole.
And see Snows, Storms, and the fierce Northern Wind.
Beneath thee bluster; Vengeance yet shall find
Thee out; through all thy lurking Holes I'll trace
Thee Fugitive, to the most distant place
Where yet no wandring Foot e'er found Access.
Although immur'd within some Rocks Recess;
Dark and abstruse; I'll search and find thee there,
No place shall hinder my Pursuit: And where
Arms cannot reach thee, Curses shall. Do'st know
From whence we came?—Dread Neptune did bestow
This Boon on us, that we Three Pray'rs should make,
To which he'd sign; and by th'adjur'd Lake
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This thy sad Gift, thou Ruler of the Flood!
No longer let Hippolytus the Light
Of Day behold; but to the Shades of Night,
Curst by his Father, in Youth's Prime descend.
To me this execrable Aid extend!
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We never had enforc'd this last Request.
When in Tartarian Deeps by Dis inchain'd,
This Vow we spar'd, from this last Wish abstain'd.
Kind Father, now thy promis'd Boon fulfil.
Why tarry'st thou? Why are the Seas yet still?
Let Cloud-compelling Winds blow Night on Day,
And take the sight of Heav'n and Stars away.
Unsluce the Main, and let the watery Flood
Rise high, and swell; big with a monstrous Brood.
[Exit.
CHORUS.
Great Parent of the Deities,
Nature! And thou who rul'st the Skies!
By whom the Star-imbellish'd Heaven
Is with a rapid Motion driven;
Who guid'st the Planets, and the Poles
On nimble-turning Hinges rowls.
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T'inform those restless Spheres above!
That now the hoary Frost bereaves
The Woods and Forests of their Leaves.
Now Shade to every Shrub returns;
Now fiery Leo Ceres burns;
Now milder Autumn does asswage
The Rigour of his scorching Rage.
And yet great Monarch of this World
(By whom the just-pois'd Orbs are hurl'd
Round 'bout their Centres) seem alone
Of Mortals so neglectful grown,
As if by thee no Thought were had,
To help the Good or plague the Bad!
“Chance without Order does command
“Th'Affairs of Men; and with blind Hand
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“Whilst Lust triumphs o'er Innocence.
“Fraud does in Courts of Princes reign,
“And 'tis the Peoples giddy vain
“With Power base Abjects to invest,
“And whom they honour, soon detest.
“Sad Virtue reaps an unjust Meed,
“And Chastity's opprest with Need.
“Whilst viciously potent grown,
“Th'Adulterer does climb a Throne.
Vain Modesty! Deceitful Grace!
But stay; what News with nimble pace,
Is this the hasty Nuncius bears?
His sad Cheeks stain'd with falling Tears.
| Phaedra and Hippolytus | |