 | Phaedra and Hippolytus |  |
Act IV.
Scene I.
Enter NUNCIUS and THESEUS.NUNCIUS.
O the hard Fortune of a servile state!
Forc'd to be Nuncius of so sad a Fate.
Thes.
Fear not the worst of Crosses to disclose,
I have a Breast not un-inur'd to Woes.
Nunc.
Voice to so great a Grief my Tongue denies.
Thes.
On our crush'd State what heavier Burthen lies?
191
Hippolytus, ah me! Is dead—dead—
Thes.
He
Long since hath been as a Son dead to me.
Now, as a Ravisher, at length he's dead.
But say the manner how.
Nunc.
As hence he fled
With nimble steps, his harness'd Steeds he fits
Unto his Chariot, rein'd with curbing Bits.
When muttering much unto himself, the Land
That bred him cursing; oft with heav'd up Hand,
He cries, O Father! Then with Whip constrains
His Horses speed, and slacks their checking Reins.
When strait, the Sea, like a huge Mountain swelling,
Rose to the Stars, no breath of Wind compelling.
No Storm in any part of Heav'n was heard,
The Waters, with a self-rais'd Tempest stir'd.
Not so Sicilias storm-vex'd Ocean raves,
Nor work the Seas with such high-going Waves
At Corus Blasts, when Rocks their Fury dread,
And their white Spry strikes Leucad's misty Head.
The Sea a watry Pelion now appears,
Big with a Monster, which to shoar she bears.
Nor to wreck Ships is this wild Tempest meant,
The Land it threatens: Billows thither bent
192
They labour; or what Miracle the Earth
Would shew the Stars. The toiled Waves appear,
Prest with a Burthen which they groan to bear.
That seems some Island from the troubled Seas,
Rais'd to augment the numerous Cyclades.
In Waves the Epidaurian Fane lies drown'd,
The Rocks, by Scyron's Villanies, renown'd,
And Isthmos, which two Seas imbrace; whilst we
This with Amazement view, behold the Sea
Begins with horrid Bellowings to resound,
Which the remugient Rocks do eccho round.
A big-swol'n Head, froath'd with a briny Spry,
Vomits the Sea's salt Charge alternately.
As some huge Whorlpool rowl'd through Deeps about;
From whistling Trunk the gulped Stream does spout.
193
Discharge the dreadful Monster on the Shore.
Our Fears exceeding: the Waves rushing on,
Threat to the Land an Inundation,
Following their monstrous Birth: We shook for fear.
Thes.
Say yet what shape did this strange Monster bear?
Like to a Bull he seem'd above the Breast,
Advancing his green Front and curled Crest,
With bristled Ears, and party-colour'd Horn,
Such as the Ruler of the Herd adorn;
Or those that live in Seas; who from his dire
Throat vomits Flames, as his Eyes sparkle Fire.
His Neck, distinguished with azure Spots,
Swelling with brawny Rolls, and fleshy Knots.
His wide-stretch'd Nostrils snort; green Moss his Brest,
And, Dulaps like, a Pectoral invest.
His Sides with red distain'd: and where they end,
The rest does in a monstrous Fish descend,
Big as a mighty Whale, which in the Main
Swallows down Ships, and casts them up again.
The Land shook; Cattel, at the Noise afeard,
Ran 'bout the Fields; the Shepherd left his Herd.
Wild Beasts forsook their Coverts; Fear possest
With chilling Cold each Hunter's bloodless Brest.
Hippolytus undaunted yet remains,
Curbing his Horses in with hard-born Reins;
And to their Fears exciting Words applies.
Like to a Bull he seem'd above the Breast,
Advancing his green Front and curled Crest,
With bristled Ears, and party-colour'd Horn,
Such as the Ruler of the Herd adorn;
Or those that live in Seas; who from his dire
Throat vomits Flames, as his Eyes sparkle Fire.
His Neck, distinguished with azure Spots,
Swelling with brawny Rolls, and fleshy Knots.
His wide-stretch'd Nostrils snort; green Moss his Brest,
And, Dulaps like, a Pectoral invest.
194
The rest does in a monstrous Fish descend,
Big as a mighty Whale, which in the Main
Swallows down Ships, and casts them up again.
The Land shook; Cattel, at the Noise afeard,
Ran 'bout the Fields; the Shepherd left his Herd.
Wild Beasts forsook their Coverts; Fear possest
With chilling Cold each Hunter's bloodless Brest.
Hippolytus undaunted yet remains,
Curbing his Horses in with hard-born Reins;
And to their Fears exciting Words applies.
A way through broken Rocks to Argos lies
A long the Shore. The Monster here makes halt,
Whets his keen Rage, and arms for the Assault.
When after a short Prelude with his Ire,
Finding his chafed Courage to aspire;
The Ground scarce touching, forth he swiftly flies,
And fronts the trembling Steeds with glaring Eyes.
Whom the brave Youth thus charges, undismaid,
With thundring Voice, and Looks that Wrath display'd.
Vain Fears my manly Mind can ne'er surprize,
To foyl Bulls, was my Fathers Exercise.
With that the frighted Horses hurry on
The whirling Chariot, and distracted run,
Where e'er their Fear their wilder Fury drives:
Quitting the Road, they climb the rocky Clives.
But, as a Pilot, lest rough Seas o'erwhelm
His Bark, with all his strength belays the Helm,
And breaks with Art the swelling Waves; so here,
In rugged ways does he his Chariot steer.
Now holds his Horses in, now as they skip,
And fling about, corrects them with his Whip.
His Foe pursues him still with equal pace,
Now siding him, now charging Face to Face;
Provoking Fear on every Hand: And now
Further he could not go; for with fierce Brow
Confronting him, the Sea-born Monster stands.
His frighted Horses breaking all Commands,
Plunge to get loose; and rearing bolt upright,
Throw to the ground their Master, who (sad Sight!)
Falling, lies fetter'd in th'intangling Reins,
Which bind him faster still the more he strains.
His Steeds perceiv'd the sad Disaster strait,
And with the Chariot (wanting now its Weight,
And wonted Driver) where Fear spurs them, run.
So the illustrious Chariot of the Sun.
(Missing its proper Guide) disdaining Day
Should know the Rule of an usurped Sway,
Threw from the Skies the erring Charioteer.
His Blood the Fields distains; rough Briars tear
His Hair away; dasht 'gainst the Rock, his Head
Rebounds; with many Wounds disfigured.
The hurry'd Wheels his dying Members rake,
At length his trailed Corps on a burnt Stake
Caught by the Groin, stuck fast; the Chariot found
A stop a while; its Lord transfix'd: the Wound
The Horses checkt: at length, at once, Delay
And their poor Lord, straining, they tear away.
His half-dead Flesh the thorny Brambles scratch,
And every Shrub some piece of him does catch.
His mournful Servants running every way
About the Fields, about the Thickets stray,
And follow where they see their Master trail'd
With a long bloody Track the Earth ingrail'd.
His tyr'd Hounds howling, trace his Limbs; nor yet
With all their Search could his sad Mates complete
His mangled Corps. Meets Beauty with such Grace?
He who but lately held the Second Place
With thee in Empire, thy Crown's Heir design'd,
Who, like the Stars, in glorious Lustre shin'd,
With recollected Limbs, defac'd and torn,
Now piece-meal to his Funeral-Fire is born.
A long the Shore. The Monster here makes halt,
Whets his keen Rage, and arms for the Assault.
When after a short Prelude with his Ire,
Finding his chafed Courage to aspire;
The Ground scarce touching, forth he swiftly flies,
And fronts the trembling Steeds with glaring Eyes.
Whom the brave Youth thus charges, undismaid,
With thundring Voice, and Looks that Wrath display'd.
195
To foyl Bulls, was my Fathers Exercise.
With that the frighted Horses hurry on
The whirling Chariot, and distracted run,
Where e'er their Fear their wilder Fury drives:
Quitting the Road, they climb the rocky Clives.
But, as a Pilot, lest rough Seas o'erwhelm
His Bark, with all his strength belays the Helm,
And breaks with Art the swelling Waves; so here,
In rugged ways does he his Chariot steer.
Now holds his Horses in, now as they skip,
And fling about, corrects them with his Whip.
His Foe pursues him still with equal pace,
Now siding him, now charging Face to Face;
Provoking Fear on every Hand: And now
Further he could not go; for with fierce Brow
Confronting him, the Sea-born Monster stands.
His frighted Horses breaking all Commands,
Plunge to get loose; and rearing bolt upright,
Throw to the ground their Master, who (sad Sight!)
196
Which bind him faster still the more he strains.
His Steeds perceiv'd the sad Disaster strait,
And with the Chariot (wanting now its Weight,
And wonted Driver) where Fear spurs them, run.
So the illustrious Chariot of the Sun.
(Missing its proper Guide) disdaining Day
Should know the Rule of an usurped Sway,
Threw from the Skies the erring Charioteer.
His Blood the Fields distains; rough Briars tear
His Hair away; dasht 'gainst the Rock, his Head
Rebounds; with many Wounds disfigured.
The hurry'd Wheels his dying Members rake,
At length his trailed Corps on a burnt Stake
Caught by the Groin, stuck fast; the Chariot found
A stop a while; its Lord transfix'd: the Wound
The Horses checkt: at length, at once, Delay
And their poor Lord, straining, they tear away.
His half-dead Flesh the thorny Brambles scratch,
And every Shrub some piece of him does catch.
His mournful Servants running every way
About the Fields, about the Thickets stray,
And follow where they see their Master trail'd
With a long bloody Track the Earth ingrail'd.
His tyr'd Hounds howling, trace his Limbs; nor yet
With all their Search could his sad Mates complete
His mangled Corps. Meets Beauty with such Grace?
He who but lately held the Second Place
197
Who, like the Stars, in glorious Lustre shin'd,
With recollected Limbs, defac'd and torn,
Now piece-meal to his Funeral-Fire is born.
Thes.
How strongly powerful Nature dost thou bind
The Hearts of Parents! How by thee inclin'd,
Though 'gainst our Wills! For him, whose guilty Head
I lately doom'd to Death; I grieve now dead.
Nunc.
“For what he wish'd done, none grieves honestly.
Thes.
“It is the height of Infelicity,
“When ev'n our Wishes prove our Curses.
Nunc.
But
Why griev'st thou for him, if thou lov'st him not?
Thes.
Not that I've lost him grieve I, but that I
The Cause should be, he such a Death should dye.
CHORUS.
What turns th'Affairs of Mortals Wheel
About! Small things do hardly feel
The Rage of Fortune; what is low,
Heavens high Hand strikes with a slight Blow.
Sweet Peace in obscure Mansions keeps,
A Cottage yields untroubled Sleeps.
When Turrets that to Clouds aspire,
Feel the rough Tempests storming Ire.
Moist Vallies dread not Thunders Stroke,
When Caucasus high Crown is broke
With Heaven's Artillery; great Hights
Jove in a jealous Anger smites.
No Storms Plebeian Roofs do rock,
Courts only feel the Thunders Shock.
Fortune, with doubtful Wings, still flies,
And Faith with all Men falsifies.
He who lare fled the Shades of Night,
And now enjoys the Day's clear Light,
Wails his return; finds his own Court
Worse Hell than his sad Stygian Port.
Great Goddess of th'Athenian State!
That Theseus with unwonted Fate
Reviews the Heav'ns (the Stygian shore
Declin'd) thou ow'st no Soul the more
To thy rapacious Unkle; he
His Number still complete does see.
About! Small things do hardly feel
The Rage of Fortune; what is low,
Heavens high Hand strikes with a slight Blow.
Sweet Peace in obscure Mansions keeps,
A Cottage yields untroubled Sleeps.
When Turrets that to Clouds aspire,
Feel the rough Tempests storming Ire.
Moist Vallies dread not Thunders Stroke,
When Caucasus high Crown is broke
198
Jove in a jealous Anger smites.
No Storms Plebeian Roofs do rock,
Courts only feel the Thunders Shock.
Fortune, with doubtful Wings, still flies,
And Faith with all Men falsifies.
He who lare fled the Shades of Night,
And now enjoys the Day's clear Light,
Wails his return; finds his own Court
Worse Hell than his sad Stygian Port.
Great Goddess of th'Athenian State!
That Theseus with unwonted Fate
Reviews the Heav'ns (the Stygian shore
Declin'd) thou ow'st no Soul the more
To thy rapacious Unkle; he
His Number still complete does see.
What mournful Voice invades my Ear?
What means mad Phædra with a drawn Sword here?
What means mad Phædra with a drawn Sword here?
| Phaedra and Hippolytus | |