Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD Dramatis Personæ

Euripides (480 or 485–406 B.C.). Hippolytus.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Lines 1–399

APHRODITE

GREAT among men, and not unnamed am I,The Cyprian, in God’s inmost halls on high.And wheresoe’er from Pontus to the farRed West men dwell, and see the glad day-star,And worship Me, the pious heart I bless,And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness.For that there is, even in a great God’s mind,That hungereth for the praise of human kind.So runs my word; and soon the very deedShall follow. For this Prince of Theseus’ seed,Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon,And reared by saintly Pittheus in his ownStrait ways, bath dared, alone of all Trozên,To hold me least of spirits and most mean,And spurns my spell and seeks no woman’s kiss.But great Apollo’s sister, Artemis,He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,He and the Maid together, with swift houndsTo slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,To more than mortal friendship consecrate!I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;Yet, seeing he bath offended, I this dayShall smite Hippolytus. Long since my wayWas opened, nor needs now much labour more.For once from Pittheus’ castle to the shoreOf Athens came Hippolytus over-seasSeeking the vision of the Mysteries.And Phædra there, his father’s Queen high-born;Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was tornWith great love, by the working of my will.And for his sake, long since, on Pallas’ hill,Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,She built a shrine, and named it Love-at-home:And the rock held it, but its face alwaySeeks Trozên o’er the seas. Then came the dayWhen Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,Phædra beside him, even to this Trozên.And here that grievous and amazèd Queen,Wounded and wondering, with ne’er a word,Wastes slowly; and her secret none bath heardNor dreamed.But never thus this love shall end!To Theseus’ ear some whisper will I send,And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,His sire shall slay with curses. Even soEndeth that boon the great Lord of the MainTo Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.I would not rate this woman’s pain so highAs not to pay mine haters in full feeThat vengeance that shall make all well with me.But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,Our Prince Hippolytus!—I will go my ways.—And hunters at his heels: and a loud throngGlorying Artemis with praise and song!Little he knows that Hell’s gates opened are,And this his last look on the great Day-star![APHRODITE withdraws, unseen by HIPPOLYTUS and a band of huntsmen, who enter from the left, singing. They pass the Statue of APHRODITE without notice.

HIPPOLYTUS

Follow, O follow me,Singing on your waysHer in whose hand are we,Her whose own flock we be,The Zeus-Child the Heavenly;To Artemis be praise!

HUNTSMAN

Hail to thee, Maiden blest,Proudest and holiest:God’s Daughter, great in bliss,Leto-born, Artemis!Hail to thee, Maiden, farFairest of all that are,Yea, and most high thine home,Child of the Father’s hall;Hear, O most virginal,Hear, O most fair of all,In high God’s golden dome.[The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of ARTEMIS. HIPPOLYTUS now advances from them, and approaches the Statue with a wreath in his hand.

HIPPOLYTUS

To thee this wreathèd garland, from a greenAnd virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen,Where never shepherd leads his grazing ewesNor scythe has touched. Only the river dewsGleam, and the spring bee sings, and in the gladeHath Solitude her mystic garden made.No evil hand may cull it: only heWhose heart bath known the heart of Purity,Unlearned of man, and true whate’er befall.Take therefore from pure hands this coronal,O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine.For, sole of living men, this grace is mine,To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear repliesOf voice divine, though none may see thine eyes.Oh, keep me to the end in this same road![An OLD HUNTSMAN, who has stood apart from the rest, here comes up to HIPPOLYTUS.

HUNTSMAN

My Prince—for “Master” name I none but God—Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?

HIPPOLYTUS

Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.

HUNTSMAN

Knowest thou one law, that through the world has won?

HIPPOLYTUS

What wouldst thou? And how runs thy law? Say on.

HUNTSMAN

It hates that Pride that speaks not all men fair!

HIPPOLYTUS

And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere.

HUNTSMAN

And good words love, and grace in all men’s sight?

HIPPOLYTUS

Aye, and much gain withal, for trouble slight.

HUNTSMAN

How deem’st thou of the Gods? Are they the same?

HIPPOLYTUS

Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.

HUNTSMAN

Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not…

HIPPOLYTUS

Whom? If the name he speakable, speak out!

HUNTSMAN

She stands here at thy gate the Cyprian Queen!

HIPPOLYTUS

I greet her from afar: my life is clean.

HUNTSMAN

Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for all to scan!

HIPPOLYTUS

Each mind hath its own bent, for God or man.

HUNTSMAN

God grant thee happiness … and wiser thought!

HIPPOLYTUS

These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not.

HUNTSMANWhat the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!

HIPPOLYTUS (turning from him to the others).

On, huntsmen, to the Castle! Make your wayStraight to the feast room; ’tis a merry thingAfter the chase, a board of banqueting.And see the steeds be groomed, and in arrayThe chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day.[He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on the left. Then to the OLD HUNTSMAN.That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside![HIPPOLYTUS follows the huntsmen, who stream off by the central door in the Castle. The OLD HUNTSMAN remains.

HUNTSMAN (approaching the Statue and kneeling)

O Cyprian—for a young man in his prideI will not follow!—here before thee, meek,In that one language that a slave may speak,I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in frothOf youth surges against thee, be not wrothFor ever! Nay, be far and hear not then:Gods should be gentler and more wise than men![He rises and follows the others into the Castle.

The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and left several Trozenian women, young and old. Their number eventually amounts to fifteen.

CHORUS

There riseth a rock-born river,Of Ocean’s tribe, men say;The crags of it gleam and quiver,And pitchers dip in the spray:A woman was there with raiment whiteTo bathe and spread in the warm sunlight,And she told a tale to me there by the river,The tale of the Queen and her evil day:How, ailing beyond allayment,Within she hath bowed her head,And with shadow of silken raimentThe bright brown hair bespread.For three long days she hath lain forlorn,Her lips untainted of flesh or corn,For that secret sorrow beyond allaymentThat steers to the far sad shore of the dead.

Some Women

Is this some Spirit, O child of man?Doth Hecat hold thee perchance, or Pan?Doth she of the Mountains work her ban,Or the dread Corybantes bind thee?

Others

Nay, is it sin that upon thee lies,Sin of forgotten sacrifice,In thine own Dictynna’s sea-wild eyes?Who in Limna here can find thee;For the Deep’s dry floor is her easy way,And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.

Other Women

Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus’ race,Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,For secret arms in a silent place,Far from thy love or chiding?

Others

Or hath there landed, amid the loudHum of Piraeus’ sailor-crowd,Some Cretan venturer, weary-browed,Who bears to the Queen some tiding;Some far home-grief, that bath bowed her low,And chained her soul to a bed of woe?

An Older Woman

Nay—know yet not?—this burden hath alway lainOn the devious being of woman; yea, burdens twain,The burden of Wild Will and the burden of Pain.Through my heart once that wind of terror sped;But I, in fear confessèd,Cried from the dark to Her in heavenly bliss,The Helper of Pain, the Bow-Maid Artemis:Whose feet I praise for ever, where they treadFar off among the blessèd!

THE LEADER

But see, the Queen’s grey nurse at the door,Sad-eyed and sterner, methinks, than of yore,With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither,To the wind and sun?—Ah, fain would I knowWhat strange betiding hath blanched that brow,And made that young life wither.[The NURSE comes out from the central door, followed by PHAEDRA, who is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for PHAEDRA to lie upon.

NURSE

O sick and sore are the days of men!What wouldst thou? What shall I change again?Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,By the castle door.But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:So swift to change is the path of thy feet,And near things hateful, and far things sweet;So was it before!Oh, pain were better than tending pain!For that were single, and this is twain,With grief of heart and labour of limb.Yet all man’s life is but ailing and dim,And rest upon earth comes never.But if any far-off state there be,Dearer than life to mortality;The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,And mist is under and mist above.And so we are sick of life, and clingOn earth to this nameless and shining thing.For other life is a fountain sealed,And the deeps below are unrevealed,And we drift on legends for ever![PHAEDRA during this has been laid on her couch; she speaks to the handmaids.

PHAEDRA

Yes; lift me: not my head so low.There, hold my arms.—Fair arms they seem!—My poor limbs scarce obey me now!Take off that hood that weighs my brow,And let my long hair stream.

NURSE

Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly.The sickness best will win reliefBy quiet rest and constancy.All men have grief.

PHAEDRA (not noticing her)

Oh for a deep and dewy spring,With runlets cold to draw and drink?And a great meadow blossoming,Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,To rest me by the brink!

NURSE

Nay, Child! Shall strangers hear this toneSo wild, and thoughts so fever-flown?

PHAEDRA

Oh, take me to the Mountain! Oh,Past the great pines and through the wood,Up where the lean hounds softly go,A-whine for wild things’ blood,And madly flies the dappled roe.O God, to shout and speed them there,An arrow by my chestnut hairDrawn tight, and one keen glimmering spear—Ah! if I could!

NURSE

What wouldst thou with them—fancies all!—Thy hunting and thy fountain brink?What wouldst thou? By the city wallCanst hear our own brook plash and fallDownhill, if thou wouldst drink.

PHAEDRA

O Mistress of the Sea-lorn MereWhere horse-hoofs beat the sand and sing,O Artemis, that I were thereTo tame Enetian steeds and steerSwift chariots in the ring!

NURSE

Nay, mountainward but now thy handsYearned out, with craving for the chase;And now toward the unseaswept sandsThou roamest, where the coursers pace!O wild young steed, what prophet knowsThe power that holds thy curb, and throwsThy swift heart from its race?[At these words PHAEDRA gradually recovers herself and pays attention.

PHAEDRA

What have I said? Woe’s me! And whereGone straying from my wholesome mind?What? Did I fall in some god’s snare?—Nurse, veil my head again, and blindMine eyes.—There is a tear behindThat lash.—Oh, I am sick with shame!Aye, but it hath a sting,To come to reason: yet the nameOf madness is an awful thing.—

HIPPOLYTUS

Could I but die in one swift flameUnthinking, unknowing!

NURSE

I veil thy face, Child.—Would that soMine own were veiled for evermore,So sore I love thee!… Though the loreOf long life mocks me, and I knowHow love should be a lightsome thingNot rooted in the deep o’ the heart;With gentle ties, to twine apartIf need so call, or closer cling.—Why do I love thee so? O fool,O fool, the heart that bleeds for twain,And builds, men tell us, wails of pain,To walk by love’s unswerving ruleThe same for ever, stern and true!For “Thorough” is no word of peace:’Tis “Naught-too-much” makes trouble cease.And many a wise man bows thereto.[The LEADER OF THE CHORUS here approaches the NURSE.

LEADER

Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true,We see her great affliction, but no clueHave we to learn the sickness. Wouldst thou tellThe name and sort thereof, ’twould like us well.

NURSE

Small leechcraft have I, and she tells no man.

LEADER

Thou know’st no cause? Nor when the unrest began?

NURSE

It all comes to the same. She will not speak.

LEADER (turning and looking at PHAEDRA).

How she is changed and wasted! And how weak!

NURSE

’Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.

LEADER

What, is she mad? Or doth she seek to die?

NURSE

I know not. But to death it sure must lead.

LEADER

’Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed.

NURSE

She hides her wound, and vows it is not so.

LEADER

Can he not look into her face and know?

NURSE

Nay, he is on a journey these last days.

LEADER

Canst thou not force her, then? Or think of waysTo trap the secret of the sick heart’s pain?

NURSE

Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain?Yet will I cease not now, and thou shalt tellIf in her grief I serve my mistress well![She goes across to where PHAEDRA lies; and presently, while speaking, kneels by her.Dear daughter mine, all that before was saidLet both of us forget; and thou insteadBe kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow.And I, who followed then the wrong road, nowWill leave it and be wiser. If thou fearSome secret sickness, there be women hereTo give thee comfort.[PHAEDRA shakes her headNo; not secret? ThenIs it a sickness meet for aid of men?Speak, that a leech may tend thee.Silent still?Nay, Child, what profits silence? If ’tis illThis that I counsel, make me see the wrong:If well, then yield to me.Nay, Child, I longFor one kind word, one look![PHAEDRA lies motionless. The NURSE rises.Oh, woe is me!Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,All as far off as ever from her heart!She ever scorned me, and now hears no partOf all my prayers![Turning to PHAEDRA again.Nay, hear thou shalt, and be,If so thou will, more wild than the wild sea;But know, thou art thy little ones’ betrayer!If thou die now, shall child of thine be heirTo Theseus’ castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,But hers! That barbed Amazonian QueenHath left a child to bend thy children low,A bastard royal-hearted—sayst not so?—Hippolytus…

Ah![She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off.