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Cornell University 
 Library 
 
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 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
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HIPPOLYTDS 
 
THE ATHENIAN DRAMA 
 
 FOR ENGLISH READERS 
 
 A Series of Verse Translations of the Greek 
 
 Dramatic Poets, with Commentaries and 
 
 Explanatory Notes. 
 
 Crown 8T0, cloth, gUt top, 8s. fid. each net. 
 
 Each Volume Tllustrated firom ancient 
 
 Sculptures and Vase-Faintiner. 
 
 EURIPIDES: Hippolytus and Baccha ; ARIS- 
 TOPHANES' 'Frogs! By Prof. Gilbert 
 Murray. With an Appendix on The Lost 
 Tragedies of Euripides, and an Introduction on 
 The Significance of the Baechee in Athenian History, 
 and 1 2 Illustrations. \Sixth Edition. 
 
 ALSO UNIFORM WITH THE ABOVE 
 THE HOMERIC HYMNS. A New Prose 
 Rendering by Andrew Lang, with Essays 
 Critical and Explanatory, and 14 Illustrations. 
 7s. 6d. net. 
 
 THE PLAYS OF EURIPIDES 
 Translated into English Rhyming Verse, with 
 Explanatory Notes, by Prof. Gilbert Murray. 
 
 Paper Covers, 2s. 
 each net. 
 
 Also crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 3s. 6d. 
 each net. 
 
 Hipptlytus. 25th Thousand 
 Baccha. 19th Thousand 
 The Trojan Women. 25th Th 
 Electro. 25th Thousand 
 Medea 19th Thousand 
 Iphigenia in Tauris, 1 6th Th 
 Rhesus. 6th Thousand 
 
 Alcestis. 
 
 8 th Thousand. 
 
 Agamemnon, 
 
 4th Thousand. 
 
 The Frogs of Aristophanes, 
 
 17th Thousand. 
 
 (Edipus Tyrannus of Sophocles. 
 1 6th Thousand. 
 
 ANDROMACHE : An Original Play by Prof. 
 Gilbert Murray. [Third Impression. 
 
THE 
 
 HIPPOLYTUS 
 
 OF 
 
 EURIPIDES 
 
 TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH RHYMING VERSE 
 WITH EXPLANATORY NOTES BY 
 
 GILBERT MURRAY, LL.D., D.Litt. 
 
 REGIUS PROFESSOR OP GREEK IN THE UNIVERSITY OF OXFORD 
 
 TWENTY-SECOND THOUSAND 
 
 URIS LIBRARy 
 
 ^^fi 2 1 J99I 
 LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO. 
 
 55 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 
 
CHARACTERS OF THE PLAY 
 
 Thb Goddess APHnoDiTft. 
 The Goddess Artemis. 
 
 Theseus, King cf Athens and Tnefn. 
 
 Phaedra, daughter of Mines, King of Crete, wife to Thesetu, 
 
 HiPFOLYTUS, bastard son of Theseus and the Ama**n Hippolytt. 
 
 The Ndrsb of Phaedra. 
 
 An Old Huntsman. 
 
 A Henchman of Hippolytus, 
 
 A Chorus of Huntsmen. 
 
 A Chorus of Trozenian Women, with their Leader. 
 
 Attendants on the three Royal Persons. 
 
 " The scene is laid in Trezln. The flay was first acted when 
 Epameinon was Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 439), Euripides 
 was first, lofhon second, Ion third," 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 
 
 Tht seem represents the front of the royal castle of 
 Trozin, the chief door being in the centre, facing the 
 audience.. Two statues are visible, that a/" Artemis 
 en the right, that of Aphrodite or Cypris on the 
 left. The goddess Aphrodite is discovered alone. 
 
 Aphrodite. 
 
 Great among men, and not unnamed am I, 
 The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high. 
 And whcresoe'er from Pontus to the fiir 
 Red West men dwell, and sec 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 deed 
 Shall follow. For this Prince of Theseus' seed, 
 Hippolytus, child of that dead Amazon, 
 And reared by saintly Pittheus in his own 
 Strait ways, hath dared, alone of all TrozSn, 
 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, 
 
> EURIPIDES 
 
 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 tuith a 
 wreath in his hand, 
 
 Hippolytus. 
 
 To thee this wreathed garland, from a green 
 And virgin meadow bear I, O my Queen, 
 /Where never shepherd leads his grazing ewes 
 Nor scythe has touched. Only the river dews 
 Gleam, and the spring bee sings, and in the glade 
 Hath Solitude her mystic garden made. 
 
 No evil hand may cull it : only he 
 ; Whose heart hath known the heart of Purity, 
 V^Unlearned of man, and true whatever befall. 
 Take therefore from pure hands this coronal, 
 
 mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine. 
 jJor, sole of living men, this grace is mine, 
 
 1 To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies 
 Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes. 
 
 Oh, keep me to the end in this same road ! 
 
 \An Old Hi;ntsman, 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 i 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 7 
 
 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 I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere. 
 
 Huntsman. 
 And good words love, and grace in all men't 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 i If the name be speakable, speak out I 
 
! EURIPIDES 
 
 Huntsman. 
 She Stands here at thy gate : the Cyprian Queen 1 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 I greet her from afar : my life is clean. 
 
 Huntsman. 
 Clean ? Nay, proud, proud ; a mark for all to scan 1 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Each mind hath its own bent, for God or man. 
 
 Huntsman. 
 God grant thee happiness . . . and wiser thought I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not. 
 
 Huntsman. 
 What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS {turning /rem him to the ethers). 
 
 On, huntsmen, to the Castle ! Make your way 
 Straight to the feast room ; 'tis a merry thing 
 After the chase, a board of banqueting. 
 And see the steeds be groomed, and in amy 
 The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day. 
 
 [He pauses, and makes a slight gesture ef 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 into the Castle, The 
 
 Old Huntsman remains. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 9 
 
 Huntsman (approaching the Statue and kneeling). 
 w 
 
 Cyprian — for a young man in his pride 
 
 1 will not follow 1 — here before thee, meek, 
 In that one language that a slave may speak, 
 I pray thee ; Oh, if some wild heart in froth 
 O youth surges against thee, be not wroth 
 For ever ! Nay, be far and hear not then : 
 Gods should be gentler and more wise than men I 
 
 [He rises and follows the ethers 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 white 
 To 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 raiment 
 The bright brown hair bespread. 
 For three long days she hath lain forlorn, 
 Her lips untainted of flesh or corn. 
 
 For that secret sorrow beyond allayment 
 That steers to the hx sad shore of the dead. 
 
lo EURIPIDES 
 
 Same 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 sca-wild eyes i 
 
 Who in Limna here can find thee ; 
 For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way, 
 I 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 loud 
 
 Hum of Piraeus' sailor-crowd. 
 
 Some Cretan venturer, weary-browed. 
 
 Who bears to the Queen some tiding ; 
 Some far home-grief, that hath bowed her low, 
 And chained her soul to a bed of woe ? 
 
 An Older Woman. 
 Nay — know ye not i — this burden hath alway lain 
 On 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 tenor sped ; 
 But I, in fear confessed. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS u 
 
 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 tread 
 Far off among the blessed I ' 
 
 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 know 
 What strange betiding hath blanched that brow, 
 And made that young life wither. 
 
 [The Nurse comes out from the central door, 
 followed by Phaedra, who ts supported by 
 two handmaids. They make ready a couch 
 for Phaedra to lie upon. 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 O sick and sore are the days of men I 
 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 fgr things sweet ; 
 
 So was it before I 
 
 Oh, pain were better than tending pain 1 
 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. 
 
 B 
 
12 EURIPIDES 
 
 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 for life, and cling 
 
 On earth to this nameless and shining thing. 
 
 For other life is a fountain sealed, 
 
 And the deeps below us are unrevcaled, 
 And we drift on legends for ever I 
 [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 1 — 
 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 relief 
 By 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 I 
 And a great meadow blossoming. 
 Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring, 
 To rest me by the brink I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 13 
 
 Nurse. 
 Nay, Child I Shall strangers hear this tone 
 So wild, and thoughts so fever-flown ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Oh, take me to the Mountain I 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 hair 
 Drawn 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 wall 
 Canst hear our own brook plash and fall 
 Downhill, if thou wouldst drink. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 O Mistress of the Sea-lorn Mere 
 
 Where horse-hoofs beat the sand and sing, 
 O Artemis, that I were there 
 To tame Enetian steeds and steer 
 Swift chariots in the ring I 
 
 Nurse. 
 Nay, mountainward but now thy hands 
 
 Yearned out, with craving for the chase ; 
 And now toward the unseaswept sands 
 
 Thou roamest, where the coursers pace 1 
 
14 EURIPIDES 
 
 O wild young steed, what prophet knows 
 The power that holds thy curb, and throws 
 Thy swift heart from its race ? 
 
 [At these words Phaedra gradually recovers 
 herself and pays attention, 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 What have I said ? Woe's me I And where 
 Gone straying from my wholesome mind ? 
 What ? Did I fall in some god's snare ? 
 — Nurse, veil my head again, and blind 
 Mine eyes. — There is a tear behind 
 That lash. — Oh, I am sick with shame I 
 
 Aye, but it hath a sting. 
 To come to reason ; yet the name 
 
 Of madness is an awful thing. — 
 Could I but die in one swift flame 
 
 Unthinking, unknowing I 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 I veil thy face, Child. — Would that so 
 Mine own were veiled for evermore, 
 So sore I love thee ! . . . Though the lore 
 ; Of long life mocks me, and I know 
 How love should be a lightsome thing 
 Not rooted in the deep o' the heart ; 
 .^ With gentle ties, to twine apart 
 ' If 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, walls of pain, 
 To walk by love's unswerving rule. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 15 
 
 The same for ever, stern and true I 
 For ' Thorough ' is no word of peace : 
 'Tis * Naught-too-much ' makes trouble cease, 
 And many a wise man bows thereto. 
 
 IThe Leader of the Chorus hert approachts 
 thi Nurse. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true. 
 We see her great affliction, but no clue 
 Have we to learn the sickness. Wouldst thou tell 
 The 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 I And how weak I 
 
 Nurse. 
 'Tis the third day she hath &sted utterly. 
 
 Leader. 
 What, is she mad ? Or doth she seek to die ? 
 
 Nurse. 
 I know not. But to death it sure must lead. 
 
i6 EURIPIDES 
 
 Leader. 
 'Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed. 
 
 NxmsE. 
 She hides her wound, and vows it is not so. 
 
 Leader. 
 Can he not look into her face and know 7 
 
 Nurse. 
 Nay, he is on a journey these last days. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Canst thou not force her, then 7 Or think of ways 
 To trap the secret of the sick heart's pain 7 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain 7 
 Yet will I cease not now, and thou shalt tell 
 If in her grief I serve my mistress well ! 
 
 IShe goes across to where Phaedra lies ; and pre- 
 sentfyf while speaking, kneels by her. 
 Dear daughter mine, ;all that before was said 
 Let both of us forget ; and thou instead 
 Be kindlier, and unlock that prisoned brow. 
 And I, who followed then the wrong road, now 
 Will leave it and be wiser. If thou fear 
 Some secret sickness, there be women here 
 To give thee comfort. [Phaedra shakes her head. 
 
 No ; not secret 7 Then 
 Is it a sickness meet for aid of men 7 
 Speak, that a leech may tend thee. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 17 
 
 Silent still ? 
 Nay, Child, what profits silence ? If 'tis ill 
 This that I counsel, make me see the wrong : 
 If well, then yield to me. 
 
 Nay, Child, I long ^ 
 For one kind word, one look ! 
 
 [Phaedra lies motionless. The Nimsu rises. 
 Oh, woe is me I 
 Women, we labour here all fruitlessly. 
 All as far off as ever from her heart ! 
 She ever scorned me, and now hears no part 
 Of 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 I 
 If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir 
 To Theseus' castle ? Nay, not thine, I ween, 
 But hers 1 That barbed Amazonian Queen 
 Hath left a child to bend thy children low, 
 -A bastard-ioyiJfheacted^sayst not so f — — 
 Hippolytus . . . 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Ahl 
 [She starts upy sitting, and throws the veil off. 
 
 Nurse. 
 That stings thee 7 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Nurse, most sore 
 Thou hast hurt me ! In God's name, speak that name 
 no more. 
 
i8 EURIPIDES 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Thou seest ? Thy mind is clear ; but with thy mind 
 Thou wilt not save thy children, nor be kind 
 To thine own life. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 My children ? Nay, most dear 
 I love them. — Far, far other grief is here. 
 
 Nurse [after a pauuy wondering). 
 Thy hand is clean, O Child, from stain of blood ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 My hand is clean ; but is my heart, O God ? 
 
 Nurse. 
 Some enemy's ^pell hath made thy spirit dim i 
 
 Phaedra. 
 He hates me not that slajrs me, nor I him. 
 
 Nurse. 
 Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes I 
 
 Nurse. 
 O speak ! What is this death-fraught mystery? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 19 
 
 Nurse {suddenly throwing herself in supplicaUon 
 at Phaedra's /«/). 
 
 Not wrong mc, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave I 
 
 Phaedra {rising and trying to move away). 
 What wouldst thou ? Force me ? Clinging to my 
 sleeve 7 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Yea, to thy knees ; and weep ; and let not go 1 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Woe to thee, Woman, if thou learn it, woe I 
 
 Nurse. 
 I know no bitterer woe than losing thee. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 I am lost ! Yet the deed shall honour me. 
 
 Nurse. 
 Why hide what honours thee ? 'Tis all I claim I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Why, so I build up honour out of shame I j 
 
 Nurse. | 
 
 Then speak, and higher still thy fiime shall stand. ; 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Go, in God's name 1 — Nay, leave me ; loose my hand 1 
 
 Nurse. 
 Never, until thou grant me what I pray. 
 
20 EURIPIDES 
 
 Phaedra {yielding, after a pause). 
 So be it. I dare not tear that hand away. 
 
 Nurse (rising and releasing Phaedra). 
 Tell all thou wilt, Daughter. I speak no more. 
 
 Phaedra {after a long pause). 
 Mother, poor Mother, that didst love so sore I 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 What mean'st thou, Child ? The Wild Bull of the 
 Tide? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride I 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Child I wouldst thou shame the house where thou 
 wast born ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn I 
 
 Nurse {to herself). 
 I am all lost and feared. What will she say 7 
 
 Phaedra. 
 From there my grief comes, not from yesterday. 
 
 Nurse. 
 I come no nearer to thy parable. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Oh, would that thou couldst tell what I must tell I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 21 
 
 Nurse. 
 I am no seer in things I wot not of. 
 
 Phaedra {again hesitating). 
 What is it that they mean, who say men . . . love ? 
 
 Nurse. 
 A thing most sweet, my Child, yet dolorous. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Only the half, belike, hath fallen on us I 
 
 Nurse (starting). 
 
 On thee ? Love ? — Oh, what sayst thou ? What 
 man's son f 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 What man's ? There was a Queen, an Amazon . . . 
 
 Nurse. 
 Hippolytus, sayst thou i 
 
 Phaedra (again wrapping her face in the veil). 
 
 Nay, 'twas thou, not 1 1 
 [Phaedra sinks bad en the couch and covers her 
 face again. The Nurse starts violently from 
 her and walks up and down. 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 God ! what wilt thou say, Child ? Wouldst thou try 
 To kill me ? — Oh, 'tis more than I can bear j 
 Women, I will no more of it, this glare^, 
 
 Of hated day, this shining of the sky. V 
 
 1 will fling down my body, and let it lie i 
 Till life be gone I 
 
22 EURIPIDES 
 
 Women, God rest with you, 
 My works are over 1 For the pure and true 
 Arc forced to evil, against their own heart's vow, 
 And love it I 
 
 l^She suddenly sees the Statue of Cypms, and standi 
 with her eyes riveted upon it. 
 
 Ah, Cyprian ! No god art thou. 
 But more than god, and greater, that hath thrust 
 Me and my queen and all our house to dust 1 
 
 [She throws herself on the ground close to the statue. 
 
 Chorus. 
 Some Women. 
 O Women, have ye heard ? Nay, dare ye hear 
 The desolate cry of the young Queen's misery ? 
 A Woman. 
 My Queen, I love thee dear. 
 
 Yet liefer were I dead than framed like thee. 
 Others. 
 Woe, woe to me for this thy bitter bane, 
 Surely the food man feeds upon is pain ! 
 
 Others. 
 How wilt thou bear thee through this livelong day. 
 
 Lost, and thine evil naked to the light ? 
 Strange things are close upon us — who shall say 
 
 How strange ? — save one thing that is plain to sight, 
 The stroke of the Cyprian and the fall thereof 
 On thee, thou child of the Isle of fearful Love I 
 
 [Phaedra during this has risen from the couch 
 and comes forward collectedly. As she speaks 
 the Nurse gradually rouses herself and listens 
 more calmly. 
 
HIPPOLYTU? 23 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Women, dwellers in this portal-seat 
 Of Pelops' land, gazing towards mjr Crete, 
 How oft, in other days than these, have I 
 Through night's long hours thought of man's misery, 
 And how this life is wrecked ! And, to mine eyes, 
 Not in man's knowledge, not in wisdom, lies 
 The lack that makes for sorrow. Nay, we scan 
 And know the right — for wit hath many a man — 
 But will not to the last end strive and serve. 
 
 For some grow too soon weary, and some swerve 
 To other paths, setting before the Right 
 The diverse far-off image of Delight ; 
 And many are delights beneath the sun ! 
 Long hours of converse ; and to sit alone 
 Musing — a deadly happiness ! — and Shame : 
 Though two things there be hidden in one name, 
 And Shame can be slow poison if it will ! 
 
 This is the truth I saw then, and see still ; 
 Nor is there any magic that can stain 
 That white truth for me, or make me blind again. 
 Come, I will show thee how my spirit hath moved. 
 When the first stab came, and I knew I loved, 
 
 1 cast about how best to face mine ill. 
 
 And the first thought that came, was to be still 
 And hide my sickness.-f^or no trust therein 
 In man's tongue, that so well admonishes ' 
 And counsels and betrays, and waxes fat J 
 With griefs of its own gathering I — After that 
 I would my madness bravely bear, and try 
 To conquer by mine own heart's purity. 
 
 My third mind, when these two availed me naught 
 
a4 EURIPIDES 
 
 To quell love, was to die — 
 
 [Motion of protest among the fV$men. 
 the best, best thought — 
 — Gainsay me not — of all that man can say I 
 I would not have mine honour hidden away ; 
 Why should I have my shame before men's eyes 
 Kept living ? And I knew, in deadly wise. 
 Shame was the deed and shame the su£Fering ; 
 And I a woman, too, to face the thing. 
 Despised of all 1 
 
 Oh, utterly accurst 
 Be she of women, whoso dared the first 
 To cast her honour out to a strange man ! 
 'Twas in some great house, surely, that began 
 This plague upon us ; then the baser kind. 
 When the good led towards evil, followed blind 
 And joyous ! Cursed be they whose lips arc clean 
 And wise and seemly, but their hearts within 
 Rank with bad daring ! How can they, O Thou 
 That walkest on the waves, great Cyprian, how 
 Smile in their husbands' faces, and not fall, 
 Not cower before the Darkness that knows all, 
 Aye, dread the dead still chambers, lest one day 
 The stones find voice, and all be finished I 
 
 Nay, 
 Friends, 'tis for this I die ; lest I stand there 
 Having shamed my husband and the babes I bare. 
 In ancient Athens they shall some day dwell. 
 My babes, free men, free-spoken, honourable, 
 And when one asks their mother, proud of me ! 
 For, oh, it cows a man, though bold he be, 
 To know a mother's or a Other's sin. 
 
 'Tis written, one way is there, one, to win 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 25 
 
 This life's race, could man keep it from his birth, 
 A true clean spirit. And through all this earth 
 To every false man, that hour comes apace 
 When Time holds up a mirror to his face, 
 And girl-like, marvelling, there he stares to sec 
 How foul his heart ! Be it not so with me I 
 
 Leader of Chorus. 
 
 Ah God, how sweet is virtue, and how wise, 
 And honour its due meed in all men's eyes 1 
 
 NinisK {who has new ristn and recovered hefself). 
 
 Mistress, a sharp swift terror struck me low 
 A moment since, hearing of this thy woe. 
 But now — I was a coward ! And men say 
 \ Our second thought the wiser is alway. 
 ^ This is no monstrous thing ; no grief too dire 
 To meet with quiet thinking. In her ire 
 A most strong goddess hath swept down on thee. 
 Thou lovest. Is that so strange ? Many there be 
 Beside thee ! . . . And because thou lovest, wilt fell 
 And die 1 And must all lovers die, then P All 
 That are or shall be ? A blithe law for them ! 
 Nay, when in might she swoops, no strength can stem 
 Cypris ; and if man yields him, she is sweet ; 
 But is he proud and stubborn ? From his feet 
 She lifts him, and — how think you ? — flings to scorn 1 
 
 She ranges with the stars of eve and morn, 
 She wanders in the heaving of the sea, 
 And all life lives from her. — Aye, this is she 
 That sows Love's seed and brings Love's fruit to 
 
 birth ; 
 And great Love's brethren are all we on earth ! 
 
26 EURIPIDES 
 
 Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days 
 Or dwell among the Muses, tell — and praise — 
 How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelft ; 
 How maiden Eds in her radiancy 
 Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away. 
 For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men 
 
 say, 
 And fear not, fret not ; for a thing too stern 
 Hath met and crushed them I 
 
 And must thou, then, turn 
 And struggle ?_iSprang there from thy ftither's blood 
 Thy little soul all lonely ? Or the god 
 That rules thee, is he other than our gods ? 
 
 ^ay, yield thee to men's ways, and kiss their rods I 
 How many, dcem'st thou, of men good and wise, 
 Know their own home's blot, and avert their eyes ? 
 ; How many fathers, when a son has strayed 
 ! And toiled beneath the Cyprian, bring him aid, 
 Not chiding ? And man's wisdom e'er hath been 
 To keep what is not good to see, unseen ! 
 
 A straight and perfect life is not for man ; 
 Nay, in a shut house, let him, if he can, 
 'Mid sheltered rooms, make all lines true. But here, 
 Out in the wide sea fallen, and full of fear, 
 Hopest thou so easily to swim to land ? 
 
 Canst thou but set thine ill days on one hand 
 i i And more good days on the other, verily, 
 O child of woman, life is well with thee I 
 
 [She pauses, and then draws nearer to Phaedra. 
 Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, 
 Cease thy fierce pride I For pride it is, and blind, 
 To seek to outpass gods 1 — Love on and dare : 
 A god hath willed it 1 And, since pain is there, 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 27 
 
 Make the pain sleep I Songs are there to bring calm, 
 And magic words. And I shall find the balm, 
 Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay 
 Were men, could not we women find our way ! 
 
 Leader of the Chorus. 
 
 Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says. 
 To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise ; 
 Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear 
 Than all her chiding was, and bitterer I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds 
 Men's lives and homes and cities — fair false words I 
 O^ why speak things to please our ears ? We crave 
 Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save I 
 
 NURSB. 
 
 Why prate so proud ? 'Tis no words, brave nor base, 
 Thou cravest ; 'tis a man's arms I 
 
 [Phaedra moves indignantly. 
 Up and &ce 
 The truth of what thou art, and name it straight ! 
 Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate 
 To beat on ; hadst thou been a woman pure 
 Or wise or strong ; never had I for lure 
 Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this I 
 But when a whole life one great battle is, 
 To win or lose — no man can blame me then. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Shame on thee I Lock those lips, and ne'er again 
 Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there I 
 
a8 EURIPIDES 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Foul, if thou wilt : but better than the fair 
 For thee and me. And better, too, the deed 
 Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, 
 Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Nay, in God's name, — such wisdom and such sin 
 Are all about thy lips I — urge me no more. 
 For all the soul within me is wrought o'er 
 By Love ; and if thou speak and speak, I may 
 Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away. 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Well, if thou wilt ! — 'Twere best never to err, 
 But, having erred, to take a counsellor 
 Is second. — Mark me now. I have within 
 Love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, 
 That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save 
 Thy life from anguish ; wilt but thou be brave ! 
 ^ [To herself, rejecting. 
 
 Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign 
 We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine 
 Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Is it a potion or a salve ? Be plain. 
 
 Nurse. 
 Who knows i Seek to be helped, Child, not to know. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Why art thou ever subtle ? I dread thee, so. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 29 
 
 NimsB. 
 
 Thou wouldst dread everything I — What dost thou 
 dread I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Lest to his ear some word be whisperid. 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Let -be, Child I I will make all well with thee I 
 
 — Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea, 
 
 Be with me I And mine own heart, come what 
 may, 
 
 Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say I 
 
 [Th* Nurse, having spoken these last words in 
 prayer apart to the Statue «/"Cypri8, turns 
 back and goes into the house. Phaedra sits 
 pensive again on her couch till towards the 
 end of the following Song, when she rises and 
 bends close to the door. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Erds, Erds, who blindest, tear by tear, 
 Men's eyes with hunger ; thou swift Foe, 
 that pliest 
 Deep in our hearts joy like an edg^d spear { 
 Come not to me with Evil haunting near, 
 Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear 
 
 Wing's music as thou fliest I 
 There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire, 
 Not in wild stars, far o£F and flinging fear, 
 As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire, 
 Erds, Child of the Highest I 
 
30 EURIPIDES 
 
 In vain, in vain, by old Alphetls' shore 
 
 The blood of many bulls doth stain the river. 
 And all Greece bows on Phoebus' Pythian floor ; 
 Yet bring we to the Master of Man no store. 
 The Keybearer, who standeth at the door 
 
 Close-barred, where hideth ever 
 The heart of the shrine. Yea, though he sack 
 man's life 
 Like a sacked city, and moveth evermore 
 Girt with calamity and strange ways of strife, 
 Him have we worshipped never I 
 
 There roamed a Steed in Oechalia's wild, 
 A Maid without yoke, without Master, 
 And Love she knew not, that far King's child : 
 But he came, he came, with a song in the night, 
 With fire, with blood ; and she strove in flight, 
 A Torrent Spirit, a Maenad white, 
 Faster and vainly faster, 
 Sealed unto Heracles by the Cyprian's Might. 
 Alas, thou Bride of Disaster I 
 
 O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall, 
 
 That Dirce's wells run under, 
 Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall I 
 Ye saw the heaven's around her flare. 
 When she lulled to her sleep that Mother fair 
 Of Twy-born Bacchus, and decked her there 
 The Bride of the bladed Thunder. 
 For her breath is on all that hath life, and she floats in 
 the air, 
 Bee-like, death-like, a wonder. 
 [During the last lines Phaedra has approached 
 the deor and is listening. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 31 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Silence, ye Women I Something is amiss. 
 
 Lbad£r. 
 How i In the house ? — Phaedra, what fear is this ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Let me but listen I There are voices. Hark I 
 
 Leader. 
 I hold my peace : yet is thy presage dark. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Oh, misery 1 
 O God, that such a thing should fall on me ! 
 
 Leader. 
 What sound, what word, 
 
 Woman, Friend, makes that sharp terror start 
 Out at thy lips ? What ominous cry half-heard 
 
 Hath leapt upon thine heart ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 1 am undone I — Bend to the door and hark. 
 
 Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away I 
 
 Leader. 
 Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark 
 The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say 
 What thing hath come to thee 7 
 
 Phaedra (caimly). 
 Why, what thing should it be ? 
 The son of that proud Amazon speaks again 
 In bitter wrath : speaks to my handmaiden I 
 
3a EURIPIDES 
 
 Leader. 
 I hear a'noise of voices, nothing clear. 
 For thee the din hath words, as through barred locb 
 Floating, at thy heart it knocks. 
 
 Phaedra. 
 " Pander of Sin " it says. — Now canst thou hear ?— 
 And there : " Betrayer of a master's bed," 
 
 Leader. 
 Ah me, betrayed I Betrayed I 
 Sweet Princess, thou art ill bested. 
 Thy secret brought to light, and ruin near, 
 
 By her thou heldest dear, 
 By her that should have loved thee and obeyed I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 Aye, I am slain. She thought to help my fall 
 With love instead of honour, and wrecked all. 
 
 Leader. 
 Where wilt thou turn thee, where f 
 And what help seek, O wounded to despair ? 
 
 Phaedra. 
 I know not, save one thing, to die right soon. 
 For such as me God keeps no other boon. 
 
 [The door In the centre bursts open, and Hippo- 
 LYTUS comes forth, closely followed by the 
 Nurse. Phaedra cowers aside, 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 O Mother Earth, O Sun that makest clean. 
 What poison have I heard, what speechless sin I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 33 
 
 NURSB. 
 
 Hush, O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess . . . 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 I have heard horrors I Shall I hold my peace ? 
 
 Nurse. 
 Yea, by this fair right arm. Son, by thy pledge . . . 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Down with that hand ! Touch not my garment's 
 edge 1 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless ? Why f 
 
 Nurse. 
 It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear. 
 
 Nurse. 
 Thine oath, thine oath I I took thine oath before ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not my soul that swore, 
 
 Nurse. 
 O Son, what wilt thou ? Wilt thou slay thy kin ? 
 
34 EURIPIDES 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 I own no kindred with the spawn of sin I 
 
 [He flings her from htm, 
 
 NURSB. 
 
 Nay, spare me ! Man was born to err ; oh, spare I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 O God, why hast Thou made this gleaming snare, 
 Woman, to dog us on the happy earth ? 
 Was it Thy will to make Man, why his birth 
 Through Love and Woman ? Could we not have rolled 
 Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold, 
 Silver and weight of bronze before Thy feet, 
 And bought of God new child-souls, as were meet 
 For each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes 
 Free, where nor Love nor Woman goes and comes ? 
 
 How, is that daughter not a bane confessed. 
 Whom her own sire sends forth — (He knows her 
 
 best!)— 
 And, will some man but take her, pays a dower I 
 And he, poor fool, takes home the poison-flower ; 
 Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing 
 He joys in ; labours for her robe-wearing, 
 Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts the less 
 In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, 
 A woman naught availing. Worst of all 
 The wise deep-thoughted 1 Never in my hall 
 May she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs ! 
 For Cypris breeds most evil in the wise. 
 And least in her whose heart has naught within ; 
 For puny wit can work but puny sin. 
 
 Why do we let their handmaids pass the gate ? 
 Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 35 
 
 About their rooms, that they might speak with none, 
 
 Nor ever hear one answering human tone I 
 
 But now dark women in still chambers lay 
 
 Flans that creep out into the light of day 
 
 On handmaids' lips — [Turning te the Nimss, 
 
 As thine accursed head 
 Braved the high honour of my Father's bed. 
 And came to traffic. . . . Our white torrent's spray 
 Shall drench mine ears to wash those words away I 
 And couldst thou dream that I . . .i I feel impure 
 Still at the very hearing I Know for sure. 
 Woman, naught but mine honour saves ye both. 
 Hadst thou not trapped me with that guileful oath, 
 No power had held me secret till the King 
 Knew all I But now, while he is journeying, 
 I too will go my ways and make no sound. 
 And when he comes again, I shall be found 
 Beside him, silent, watching with what grace 
 Thou and thy mistress greet him face to face I 
 Then shall I have the taste of it, and know 
 What woman's guile is. — Woe upon you, woe ! 
 How can I too much hate you, while the ill 
 Ye work upon the world grows deadlier still ? 
 Too much ? Make woman pure, and wild Love tame. 
 Or let me cry for ever on their shame I 
 
 [He goes off in fitry to the left. Phaedra still 
 cowering in her place begins to sob, 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 Sad, sad and evil-starred 
 Is Woman's state. 
 What shelter now is left or guard ? 
 What spell to loose the iron knot of fate P 
 
36 EURIPIDES 
 
 And this thing, O my God, 
 
 thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert I 
 
 1 cannot fly before the avenging rod 
 
 Falls, cannot hide my hurt. 
 What help, O ye who love me, can come near, 
 
 What god or man appear, 
 To aid a thing so evil and so lost ? 
 Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late. 
 To that swift river that no life hath crossed. 
 No woman ever lived so desolate 1 
 
 Leader of the Chorus. 
 
 Ah me, the time for deeds is gone ; the boast 
 Proved vain that spake thine handmaid ; and all lost I 
 [At these words Phaedra suddenly rtmemben 
 the Nurse, who ts cowering silently where 
 HiPPOLYTUs had thrown her from him. She 
 turns upon her, 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 wicked, wicked, wicked I Murderess heart 
 
 To them that loved thee I Hast thou played thy part P 
 Am I enough trod down ? 
 
 May Zeus, my sire, 
 Blast and uproot thee ! Stab thee dead with fire 1 
 Said I not — Knew I not thine heart ? — to name 
 To no one soul this that is now my shame ? 
 And thou couldst aot be silent I So no more 
 
 1 die in honour. .But enough ; a store 
 
 Of new words must be spoke and new things thought. 
 This man's whole being to one blade is wrought 
 Of rage against me. ' Even now he speeds 
 To abase me to the King with thy misdeeds ; 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 37 
 
 Tell^itthe«*-j-ffi*he land with talk of sin I 
 
 Cursid be thou, and whoso else leaps in 
 To bring bad aid to friends that want it not. 
 
 [^Tke NuRSK has raised herself, and facet 
 Phaedra, downcast but calm, 
 
 NURSB. 
 
 Mistress, thou blamest me ; and all thy lot 
 So bitter sore is, and the sting so wild, \ 
 
 I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, \ 
 I have mine answer, couldst thou hearken aught/ 
 
 I nursed thee, and I love thee ; and I sougHt 
 Only some balm to heal thy deep despair. 
 And found — not what I sought for. Else I were 
 Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped right.Vj 
 So fares it with us all in the world's sight. 7^ 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 First stab me to the heart, then humour me 
 With words I 'Tis fair ; 'tis all as it should be I 
 
 Nurse. 
 
 We talk too long, Child. I did ill ; but, oh, 
 There is a way to save thee, even so I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 A way f No more ways ! One way hast thou trod 
 Already, foul and false and loathed of god ! 
 Begone out of my sight j and ponder how 
 Thine own life stands I I need no helpers now. 
 
 [She turns from the Nurse, who creeps abashed 
 away into the Castle. 
 
38 EURIPIDES 
 
 Only do ye, high Daughters of Troz4n, 
 Let all ye hear be as it had not been ; 
 Know naught, and speak of naught I 'Tis my last 
 prayer. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear. 
 No word will I of these thy griefs reveal I 
 
 Phaedra. 
 
 'Tis well. But now, yea, even while I reel 
 And falter, one poor hope, as hope now is, 
 I clutch at in this coil of miseries ; 
 To save some honour for my children's sake ; 
 Yea, for myself some fragment, though things break 
 In ruin around me. Nay, I will not shame 
 The old proud Cretan castle whence I came, 
 I will not cower before King Theseus' eyes, 
 Abased, for want of one life's sacrifice I 
 
 Leader. 
 What wilt thou i Some dire deed beyond recall ? 
 
 Phaedra {musing). 
 Die ; but how die ? 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Let not such wild words fall I 
 
 Phaedra (turning upon her). 
 
 Give thou not such light counsel I Let me be 
 To sate the Cyprian that is murdering me ! 
 To-day shall be her day ; and, all strife past, 
 Her bitter Love shall quell me at the last. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 39 
 
 Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane ! 
 He shall not stand so proud where I have lain 
 Bent in the dust 1 Oh, he shall stoop to share 
 The life I live in, and learn mercy there ! 
 
 [^She gees off" wildly into the Castle, 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Could I take me to some cavern for mine hiding. 
 
 In the hill-tops where the Sun scarce hath trod ; 
 Or a cloud make the home of mine abiding, 
 
 As a bird among the bird-droves of God I 
 Could I wing me to my rest amid the roar 
 Of the deep Adriatic on the shore. 
 Where the waters of Eridanus are clear, 
 
 And Phaethon's sad sisters by his grave 
 Weep into the river, and each tear 
 
 Gleams, a drop of amber, in the wave. 
 
 To the strand of the Daughters of the Sunset, 
 
 The Apple-tree, the singing and the gold ; 
 Where the mariner must stay him from his onset. 
 
 And the red wave is tranquil as of old ; 
 Yea, beyond that Pillar of the End 
 That Atlas guardcth, would I wend ; 
 Where a voice of living waters never ceaseth 
 
 In God's quiet garden by the sea. 
 And Earth, the ancient life-giver, increaseth 
 
 Joy among the meadows, like a tree. 
 
 O shallop of Crete, whose milk-white wing 
 Through the swell and the storm-beating. 
 
4C EURIPIDES 
 
 Bore us thy Prince's daughter, 
 Was it well she came from a joyous home 
 To a far King's bridal across the foam ? 
 
 What joy hath her bridal brought her i 
 Sure some spell upon either hand 
 Flew with thee from the Cretan strand, 
 Seeking Athena's tower divine ; 
 And there, where Munychus fronts the brine. 
 Crept by the shore-flung cables' line, 
 
 The curse from the Cretan water I 
 
 And, for that dark spell that about her dings, 
 Sick desires of forbidden things 
 
 The soul of her rend and sever ; 
 The bitter tide of calamity 
 Hath risen above her lips ; and she. 
 
 Where bends she her last endeavour ? 
 She will hie her alone to her bridal room. 
 And a rope swing slow in the rafters' gloom ; 
 And a fair white neck shall creep to the noose, 
 A-shudder with dread, yet firm to choose 
 The one strait way for fame, and lose 
 
 The Love and the pain for ever. 
 
 [Tht Voict of the NuRSB is heard from within, 
 crying, at fir it inarticulatefyf then clearly. 
 
 Voice. 
 
 Help ho I The Queen I Help, whoso hearkeneth I 
 Help I Theseus' spouse caught in a noose of death ' 
 
 A Woman. 
 
 God, is it so soon finished ? That bright head 
 Swinging beneath the rafters I Phaedra dead I 
 
HIPPO LYTUS 41 
 
 Voice. 
 
 O haste I This knot about her throat is made 
 So fast I Will no one bring me a swift blade ? 
 
 A Woman. 
 
 Say, friends, what think ye ? Should we haste within, 
 And from her own hand's knotting loose the Queen ? 
 
 Another. 
 
 Nay, are there not men there ? 'Tis an ill road 
 In life, to finger at another's load. 
 
 Voice. 
 
 Let it lie straight 1 Alas 1 the cold white thing 
 That guards his empty castle for the King I 
 
 A Woman. 
 
 Ah I ' Let it lie straight 1 ' Heard ye what she said i 
 No need for helpers now ; the Queen is dead I 
 
 [The Womeriy tntent upon the voices from the 
 Casthf have net noticed the approach tf 
 Theseus. He enters from the left ; hit 
 dress and the garland on his head show that 
 he has returned from some oracle or special 
 abode of a God, He stands for a moment 
 perplexed. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Ho, Women, and what means this loud acclaim 
 Within the house ? The vassals' outcry came 
 To smite mine ears far off. It were more meet 
 To fling out wide the Castle gates, and greet 
 
43 EURIPIDES 
 
 With joy a herald from God's Presence I 
 
 [The confusion and horror of th* Women's fata 
 gradually affects hm. A dirge-cry comes 
 from the Castle, 
 
 How? 
 Not Pittheus f Hath Time struck that hoary brow ? 
 Old is he, old, I know. But sore it were. 
 Returning thus, to find his empty chair I 
 
 \The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward. 
 
 Leader. 
 O Theseus, not on any old man's head 
 This stroke falls. Young and tender is the dead. 
 
 Theseus. 
 Ye Gods I One of my children torn from me ? 
 
 Leader. 
 Thy motherless children live, most grievously. 
 
 Theseus. 
 How sayst thou f What ? My wife ? • . . 
 
 Say how she died. 
 Leader. 
 
 In a high death-knot that her own hands tied. 
 
 Theseus. 
 A fit of the old cold anguish — Tell me all — 
 That held her ? Or did some fresh thing befall ? 
 
 Leader. 
 We know no more. But now arrived we be, 
 Theseus, to mourn for thy calamity. 
 
 [Theseus stays for a moment silent^ and puts hit 
 hand to his brow. He notices the wreath. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 43 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 What ? And all garlanded I come to her 
 With flowers, most evil-starred GodVmessenger 1 
 
 Ho, varlcts, loose the portal bars ; undo 
 The bolts ; and let me see the bitter view 
 Of her whose death hath brought me to mine own. 
 
 [The great central door of the Castle is thrown 
 open widey and the body of Phaedra is seen 
 lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of 
 Handmaids, wailing. 
 
 The Handmaids. 
 
 Ah me, what thou hast suffered and hast done : 
 
 A deed to wrap this roof in flame ! 
 Why was thine hand so strong, thine heart so bold ? 
 Wherefore, O dead in anger, dead in shame, 
 The long, long wrestling ere thy breath was cold ? 
 
 O ill-starred Wife, 
 What brought this blackness over all thy life ? 
 
 \A throng of Men and Women has gradually 
 collected. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Ah me, this is the last 
 — Hear, O my countrymen ! — and bitterest 
 Of Theseus' labours I Fortune all unblest. 
 How hath thine heavy heel across me passed I 
 Is it the stain of sins done long ago, 
 
 Some fell God still remembereth. 
 That must so dim and fret my life with death ? 
 I cannot win to shore ; and the waves flow 
 
44 EURIPIDES 
 
 Above mine eyes, to be surmounted not. 
 
 Ah wife, sweet wife, what name 
 
 Can fit thine heavy lot ? 
 Gone like a wild bird, like a blowing flame, 
 In one swift gust, where all things are forgot I 
 
 Alas I this misery ! 
 Sure 'tis some stroke of God's great anger rolled 
 
 From age to age on me. 
 For some dire sin wrought by dim kings of old. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Sire, this great grief hath come to many an one, 
 A true wife lost. Thou art not all alone. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Deep, deep beneath the Earth, 
 Dark may my dwelling be. 
 And Night my heart's one comrade, in the dearth, 
 O Love, of thy most sweet society. 
 This is my death, O Phaedra, more than thine. 
 
 [i/« turns suddenly on the Attendants, 
 Speak who speak can ? What was it f What malign 
 Swift stroke, O heart discounselled, leapt on thee ? 
 
 [He bends over Phaedra ; then^ as no one speaks, 
 hois fiercely up. 
 What, will ye speak f Or are they diunb as death,/ 
 This herd of thralls, my high house harboureth i 
 
 [There is no answer. He bends again over 
 Phaedra, 
 Ah me, why shouldst thou die ? 
 A wide and royal grief I here behold, 
 Not to be borne in peace, not to be told. 
 As a lost man am I, 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 45 
 
 My children motherless and my house undone, 
 
 Since thou art vanished quite, 
 Purest of hearts that e'er the wandering Sun 
 Touched, or the star-eyed splendour of the Night. 
 
 [He throws himself beside the body. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Unhappy one, O most unhappy one ; 
 
 With what strange evil is this Castle vexed I 
 Mine eyes are molten with the tears that run 
 
 For thee and thine ; but what thing follows next ? 
 I tremble when I think thereon I 
 \They have noticed that there is a tablet with 
 writing fastened to the dead woman's wrist, 
 Thkseus also sees it. 
 
 Theseus, 
 
 Ha, what is this that hangs from her dear hand ? 
 A tablet ! It would make me understand 
 Some dying wish, some charge about her bed 
 And children, 'Twas the last prayer, ere her head 
 Was bowed for ever, \Taking the tablet. 
 
 Fear not, my lost bride, 
 No woman born shall lie at Theseus' side, 
 Nor rule in Theseus' house 1 
 
 A seal I Ah, see 
 How her gold signet here looks up at me. 
 Trustfully, Let me tear this thread away, 
 And read what tale the tablet seeks to say. 
 
 [He proceeds to undo and read the tablet. The 
 Chorus breaks into horrified groups. 
 
46 EURIPIDES 
 
 Some Women. 
 
 Woe, woe ! God brings to birth 
 A new grief here, close on the other's tread I 
 
 My life hath lost its worth. 
 May all go now with what is finishW I 
 The castle of my King is overthrown, 
 A house no more, a house vanished and gone I 
 
 Other Women. 
 
 God, if it may be in any way, 
 
 Let not this house be wrecked I Help us who pray 1 
 
 1 know not what is here : some unseen thing 
 That shows the Bird of Evil on the wing. 
 
 [Theseus has read the tablet and breaks out m 
 uncontrollable emotion, 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Oh, horror piled on horror ! — Here is writ . . . 
 Nay, who could bear it, who could speak of it ? 
 
 Leader. 
 What, O my King ? If I may hear it, speak 1 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Doth not the tablet cry aloud, yea, shriek, 
 Things not to be forgotten ? — Oh, to fly 
 And hide mine head ! No more a man am I. 
 Ah, God, what ghastly music echoes here 1 
 
 Leader. 
 How wild thy voice I Some terrible thing is near. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 47 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 No ; my lips' gates will hold it back no more ; 
 
 This deadly word, 
 That struggles on the brink and will not o'er, 
 Yet will not stay unheard. 
 [/// raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present. 
 Ho, hearken all this land I 
 
 [The people gather expectantly about him. 
 Hippolytus by violence hath laid hand 
 On this my wife, forgetting God's great eye. 
 
 [Murmurs of amazement and horror ; Theseus, 
 apparently calm, raises both arms to heaven. 
 Therefore, O Thou my Father, hear my cry, 
 Poseidon 1 Thou didst grant me for mine own 
 Three prayers ; for one of these, slay now my son, 
 Hippolytus ; let him not outlive this day. 
 If true thy promise was I Lo, thus I pray. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Oh, call that wild prayer back I O King, take heed I 
 I know that thou wilt live to rue this deed. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 It may not be. — And more, I cast him out 
 From all my realms. He shall be held about 
 By two great dooms. Or by Poseidon's breath 
 He shall fall swiftly to the house of Death ; 
 Or wandering, outcast, o'er strange land and sea 
 Shall live and drain the cup of misery. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Ah, see I here comes he at the point of need. 
 Shake off that evil mood, O King : have heed 
 
48 EURIPIDES 
 
 For all thine house and folk. — Great Theseus, hear I 
 [Theseus stands silent in fierce gloom, Hippo- 
 LYTUS comes tnfrem the right. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Father, I heard thy cry, and sped in fear 
 To help thee. — But I see not yet the cause 
 That racked thee so. — Say, Father, what it was. 
 
 [The murmurs in the crewdy the silent gloom of 
 his Father^ and the horror of the Chorus- 
 women gradually work on Hippolytus and 
 bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier. 
 Ah, what is that I Nay, Father, not the Queen 
 Dead I {Murmurs in the crowd^ 
 
 'Tis most strange. 'Tis passing strange, I ween. 
 'Twas here I left her. Scarce an hour hath run 
 Since here she stood and looked on this same sun. 
 What is it with her ? Wherefore did she die ? 
 
 [Theseus remains silent. The murmurs increase. 
 Father, to thee I speak. Oh, tell me, why, 
 Why art thou silent ? What doth silence know 
 Of skill to stem the bitter flood of woe f 
 And human hearts in sorrow crave the more 
 For knowledge, though the knowledge grieve them sore. 
 It is not love, to veil thy sorrows in 
 From one most near to thee, and more than kia 
 
 Theseus (to himself). 
 Fond race of men, so striving and so blind. 
 Ten thousand arts and wisdoms can ye find. 
 Desiring all and all imagining : 
 But ne'er have reached nor understood one thing, 
 To make a true heart there where no heart is I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 49 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 That were indeed beyond man's mysteries, 
 To make a fai»e heart true against his will. 
 But why this subtle talk ? It likes me ill, 
 Father ; thy speech runs wild beneath this blow. 
 
 Theseus {as before). 
 
 O would that God had given, us here below 
 
 Some test of love, some sifting of the soul. 
 
 To tell the false and true I Or through the whole 
 
 Of men two voices ran, one true and right. 
 
 The other as chance willed it ; that we might 
 
 Convict the liar by the true man's tone, 
 
 And not live duped forever, every one I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS (misunderstanding him ; then guessing at 
 something of the truth). 
 
 What ? Hath some friend proved false ? 
 
 Or in thine ear 
 Whispered some slander ? Stand I tainted here, 
 Though utterly innocent ? [Murmurs from the crowd. 
 
 Yea, dazed am I ; 
 'Tis thy words daze me, falling all awry. 
 Away from reason, by fell fancies vexed I 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 O heart of man, what height wilt venture nract ? 
 What end comes to thy daring and thy crime ? 
 For if with each man's life 'twill higher climb, 
 And every age break out in blood and lies 
 Beyond its Others, must not God devise 
 Some new world far from ours, to hold therein 
 Such brood of all un&ithfiilness and sin f 
 
50 EURIPIDES 
 
 Look, all, upon this man, my son, his life 
 Sprung forth from mine I He hath defiled my 
 
 wife ; 
 And standeth here convicted by the dead, 
 A most black villain I 
 
 [HiPPOLYTUS falls back with a cry and covers his 
 face with his robe. 
 
 Nay, hide not thine head I 
 Pollution, is it ? Thee it will not stain. 
 Look up, and face thy Father's eyes again I 
 
 Thou friend of Gods, of all mankind elect ; 
 Thou the pure heart, by thoughts of ill unflecked I 
 I care not for thy boasts. I am not mad, 
 To deem that Gods love best the base and bad. 
 
 Now is thy day I Now vaunt thee ; thou so pure, 
 No flesh of life may pass thy lips 1 Now lure 
 Fools after thee ; call Orpheus King and Lord ; 
 Make ecstasies and wonders I Thumb thine hoard 
 1 Of ancient scrolls and ghostly mysteries — 
 Now thou art caught and known ! 
 
 Shun men like these, 
 I charge ye all ! With solemn words they chase 
 Their prey, and in their hearts plot foul disgrace. 
 ' My wife is dead. — * Ha, so that saves thee now ? ' 
 That is what grips thee worst, thou caiti£F, thou I 
 What oaths, what subtle words, shall stronger be 
 Than this dead hand, to clear the guilt from thee ? 
 • She hated thee,' thou sayest ; ' the bastard born 
 i Is ever sore and bitter as a thorn 
 ■To the true brood.' — A sorry bargainer 
 In the ills and goods of life thou makcst her. 
 If all her best-beloved she cast away 
 To wreak blind hate on thee I — What, wilt thou say, 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 51 
 
 ' Through every woman's nature one blind strand 
 
 Of passion winds, that men scarce understand 7 ' — 
 
 Are we so difiFerent ? Know I not the fire 
 
 And perilous flood of a young man's desire, 
 
 Desperate as any woman, and as blind. 
 
 When Cypris stings ? Save that the man behind ' 
 
 Has all men's strength to aid him. Nay, 'twasjhgu.. .'. 
 
 But what avail to wrangle with thee now. 
 When the dead speaks for all to understand, 
 A perfect witness I 
 
 Hie thee from this land 
 To exile with all speed. Come never more 
 To god-built Athens, not to the utmost shore 
 Of any realm where Theseus' arm is strong I 
 What ? Shall I bow my head beneath this wrong* 
 And cower to thee ? Not Isthmian Sinis so 
 Will bear men witness that I laid him low, 
 Nor Skiron's rocks, that share the salt sea's prey, 
 Grant that my hand hath weight vile things to slay I 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Alas I whom shall I call of mortal men 
 Happy f The highest are cast down again. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Father, the hot strained fury of thy heart 
 
 Is terrible. Yet, albeit so swift thou art 
 
 Of speech, if all this matter were laid bare, 
 
 Speech were not then so swift ; nay, nor so fair. . . 
 
 \Murmurs again in the crowd. 
 I have no skill before a crowd to tell 
 My thoughts. 'Twere best with few, that know me 
 well. — 
 
52 EURIPIDES 
 
 Nay, that is natural ; tongues that sound but rude 
 In wise men's ears, speak to the multitude 
 With music. 
 
 None the less, since there is come 
 This stroke upon me, I must not be dumb. 
 But speak perforce. . . • And there will I begin 
 Where thou beganst, as though to strip mjr sin 
 Naked, and I not speak a word 1 
 
 Dost see 
 This sunlight and this earth ? I swear to thee 
 There dwelleth not in these one man — deny 
 All that thou wilt ! — more pure of sin. than I. 
 
 Two things I know on earth : God's worship first ; 
 Next to win friends about me, few, that thirst 
 To hold them clean of all unrighteousness. 
 Our rule doth curse the tempters, and no less 
 Who yieldeth to the tempters. — How, thou say'st, 
 ' Dupes that I jest at ?' Nay ; I make a jest 
 Of no man. I am honest to the end. 
 Near or far olF, with him I call my friend. 
 And most in that one thing, where now thy mesh 
 Would grip me, stainless quite I No woman's flesh 
 Hath e'er this body touched. Of all such deed 
 Naught wot I, save what things a man may read 
 In pictures or hear spoke ; nor am I fain, 
 Being virgin-souled, to read or hear again. 
 
 My life of innocence moves thee not ; so be it. 
 Show then what hath seduced me ; let me see it. 
 Was that poor flesh so passing fair, beyond 
 All women's loveliness ? 
 , ~ Was I some fond 
 
 False plotter, that I schemed to win through her 
 Thy castle's heirdom ? Fond indeed I were I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 53 
 
 Nay, a stark madman ! * But a crown,' thou sayst, , 
 
 * Usurped, is sweet.* Nay, rather most unblest , 
 
 To all wise-hearted ; sweet to fools and them 
 
 Whose eyes are blinded by the diadem. 
 
 In contests of all valour fain would I 
 
 Lead Hellas ; but in rank and majesty ^ 
 
 Not lead, but be at ease, with good men near 
 
 To love me, free to work and not to fear. j 
 
 That brings more joy than any crown or throne. ,/ 
 
 [Hi sees from the demeanour of Theseus and of 
 the crowd that his words are not winning 
 themy but rather making them bitterer than 
 before. It comes to his lips to speak the whole 
 truth. 
 I have said my say ; save one thing . . . one alone. 
 
 O had I here some witness in my need, 
 As I was witness ! Could she hear me plead. 
 Face me and face the sunlight ; well I know. 
 Our deeds would search us out for thee, and show 
 Who lies 1 
 
 But now, I swear — so hear me both, 
 The Earth beneath and Zeus who Guards the 
 
 Oath— 
 I never touched this woman that was thine I 
 No words could win me to it, nor incline 
 My heart to dream it; May God strike me down, 
 Nameless and fameless, without home or town. 
 An outcast and a wanderer of the world ; 
 May my dead bones rest never, but be hurled 
 From sea to land, iirom land to angry sea, 
 If evil is my heart and false to thee 1 
 
 [He waits a moment ; but sees that his Father is 
 unmoved. The truth again comes t$ his lips. 
 
54 EURIPIDES 
 
 If 'twas some fear that made her cast away 
 Her life ... I know not. More I must not say. 
 Right hath she done when in her was no right ; 
 And Right I follow to mine own despite 1 
 
 Leader. 
 
 It is enough I God's name is witness large, 
 And thy great oath, to assoil thee of this charge. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Is not the man a juggler and a mage. 
 
 Cool wits and one right oath — what more ? — to 
 
 assuage 
 Sin and the wrath of injured fatherhood ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Am I so cool ? Nay, Father, 'tis thy mood 
 That makes me marvel ! By my faith, wert thou 
 The son, and I the sire ; and deemed I now 
 In very truth thou hadst my wife assailed, 
 I had not exiled thee, nor stood and railed, 
 But lifted once mine arm, and struck thee dead I 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Thou gentle judge I Thou shalt not so be sped 
 To simple death, nor by thine own decree. 
 Swift death is bliss to men in misery. 
 Far o£F, friendless forever, thou shalt drain 
 Amid strange cities the last dregs of pain I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Wilt verily cast me now beyond thy pale, 
 Not wait for Time, the lifter of the veil ? 
 
HIPPOLYTUS SS 
 
 Theseus. 
 Aye, if I could, past Pontus, and the red 
 Atlantic marge 1 So do I hate thine head. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Wilt weigh nor oath nor faith nor prophet's word 
 To prove me ? Drive me from thy sight unheard ? 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 This tablet here, that needs no prophet's lot 
 To speak from, tells me all. I ponder not 
 Thy fowls that fly above us ! Let them fly. 
 
 HlPPCLYTUS. 
 
 O ye great Gods, wherefore unlock not I 
 My lips, ere yet ye have slain me utterly, 
 Ye whom I love most ? No. It may not be ! 
 The one heart that I need I ne'er should gain 
 To trust me. I should break mine oath in vain. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Death ! but he chokes me with his saintly tone I — 
 Up, get thee from this land I Begone I Begone ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Where shall I turn me ? Think. To what friend's 
 
 door 
 Betake me, banished on a charge so sore ? 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Whoso delights to welcome to his hall 
 
 Vile ravishers ... to guard his hearth withal I 
 
5,6 EURIPIDES 
 
 \ 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Thou seckst my heart, my tears f Aye, let it be 
 Thus 1 I am vile to all men, and to thee I 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 There was a time for tears and thought ; the time 
 Ere thou didst up and gird thee to thy crime. 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Ye stones, will ye not speak ? Ye castle walls ! 
 Bear witness if I be so vile, so false 1 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Aye, fly to voiceless witnesses I Yet here 
 
 A dumb deed speaks against thee, and speaks clear ! 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Alas! 
 
 Would I could stand and watch this thing, and see 
 
 My face, and weep for very pity of me I 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Full of thyself, as ever I Not a thought 
 
 For them that gave thee birth ; nay, they arc naught ! 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 O my wronged Mother ! O my birth of shame I 
 May none I love e'er bear a bastard's name ! 
 
 Theseus (in a sudden blaze efrage). 
 
 Up, thralls, and drag him from my presence I What ? 
 'Tis but a foreign felon ! Heard ye not ? 
 
 [The thralls still hesitate in spite ef his fury. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 57 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 They touch me at their peril I Thine own hand 
 Lift, if thou canst, to drive me from .the land. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 That will I straight, unless my will be done I 
 
 [HiPPOLYTUS comes close to him and kneels. 
 
 Nay ! Not for thee my pity ! Get thee gone ! 
 
 [HiPPOLYTUS rises, makes a sign of submission, and 
 slowly moves away. Theseus, as soon as 
 he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters 
 the Castle. The door is closed again. HiP- 
 POLYTUS has stopped for a moment before the 
 Statue of Aktemis, and, as Theseus departs, 
 breaks out in prayer. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 So ; it is done I O dark and miserable I 
 
 I see it all, but see not how to tell 
 
 The tale. — O thou beloved, Leto's Maid, 
 
 Chase-comrade, fellow-rester in the glade, 
 
 Lo, I am driven with a caitiff's brand 
 
 Forth from great Athens ! Fare ye well, O land 
 
 And city of old Erechtheus ! Thou, TrozSn, 
 
 What riches of glad youth mine eyes have seen 
 
 In thy broad plain ! Farewell I This is the end ; 
 
 The last word, the last look ! 
 
 Come, every friend 
 And fellow of my youth that still may stay. 
 Give me god-speed and cheer me on my way. 
 
58 EURIPIDES 
 
 Ne'er shall ye see a man more pure of spot 
 
 Than me, though mine own Father loves me not I 
 
 [HiPPOLYTUS goes away to the right, followed hj 
 many Huntsmen and other young men. The 
 rest of the crowd has by this time dispersed, 
 except the Women of the Chorus and some 
 Men of the Chorus of Huntsmen, 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Men. 
 
 Surely the thought of the Gods hath balm in it alway, 
 to win me 
 Far from my griefs; and a thought, deep in the 
 dark of my mind, 
 Clings to a great Understanding. Yet all the spirit 
 within me 
 Faints, when I watch men's deeds matched with 
 the guerdon they find. 
 
 For Good comes in Evil's traces. 
 And the Evil the Good replaces ; 
 And Life, 'mid the changing faces, 
 Wandereth weak and blind. 
 
 Women. 
 
 What wilt thou grant me, O God ? Lo, this is the 
 prayer of my travail — 
 Some well-being; and chance not very bitter 
 thereby ; 
 A Spirit uncrippled by pain ; and a mind not deep to 
 unravel 
 Truth unseen, nor yet dark with the brand of 
 a lie. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 59 
 
 With a veering mood to borrow 
 Its light from every morrow, 
 Fair friends and no deep sorrow, 
 Well could man live and die I 
 
 Mttt. 
 
 Yet my spirit Si no more clean, 
 
 And the weft of my hope is torn. 
 For the deed of wrong that mine eyes 
 have seen. 
 The lie and the rage and the scorn ; 
 A Star among men, yea, a Star 
 That in Hellas was bright. 
 By a Father's wrath driven far 
 
 To the wilds and the night. 
 Oh, alas for the sands of the shore I 
 
 Alas for the brakes of the hill. 
 Where the wolves shall fear thee no more, 
 And thy cry to Dictynna is still I 
 
 Women, 
 
 No more in the yoke of thy car 
 
 Shall the colts of Enetia fleet ; 
 Nor Limna's echoes quiver afar 
 
 To the clatter of galloping feet. 
 The sleepless music of old. 
 
 That leaped in the lyre, 
 Ceaseth now, and is cold, 
 
 In the halls of thy sire. 
 The bowers are discrowned and unladen 
 
 Where Artemis lay on the lea ; 
 And the love-dream of many a maiden 
 
 Lost, in the losing of thee 
 
6o EURIPIDES 
 
 A Matden. 
 
 And I, even I, 
 
 For thy fall, O Friend, 
 Amid tears and tears, 
 Endure to the end 
 Of the empty years. 
 Of a life run dry. 
 
 In vain didst thou bear him, 
 
 Thou Mother forlorn ! 
 Ye Gods that did snare him, 
 Lo, I cast in your faces 
 
 My hate and my scorn I 
 Ye love-linkdd Graces, 
 (Alas for the day !) 
 
 Was he naught, then, to you, 
 That ye cast him away, 
 The stainless and true. 
 From the old happy places ? 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Look yonder ! Surely from the Prince 'tis one 
 That cometh, full of haste and woe-begone. 
 
 [A Henchmaw ^iert in ftette. 
 
 Henchman. 
 
 Ye women, whither shall I go to seek 
 
 King Theseus ? Is he in this dwelling ? Speak I 
 
 Leader. 
 
 Lo, where he cometh through the Castle gate I 
 
 [Theseus comts out from the Caitlt. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 6i 
 
 Henchman. 
 
 King, I bear thee tidings of dire weight 
 To thee, aye, and to every man, I ween, 
 From Athens to the marches of Trozdn. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 What 7 Some new stroke hath touched, unknown to me^ 
 The sister cities of my sovranty i 
 
 Henchman. 
 
 Hippolytus is . . . Nay, not dead ; but stark 
 Outstretched, a hairsbreadth this side of the dark. 
 
 Theseus {ai though unmoved). 
 
 How slain ? Was there some other man, whose wife 
 He had like mine defiled, that sought his life ? 
 
 Henchman. 
 
 His own wild team destroyed him, and the dire 
 Curse of thy lips. 
 
 The boon of thy great Sire 
 Is granted thee, O King, and thy son slain. 
 
 Theseus. 
 
 Ye Gods I And thou, Poseidon I Not in vain 
 
 1 called thee Father ; thou hast heard my prayer I 
 
 How did he die i Speak on. How closed the snare 
 Of Heaven to slay the shamer of my blood ? 
 
 Henchman. 
 
 'Twas by the bank of beating sea we stood, 
 We thralls, and decked the steeds, and combed each 
 mane; 
 
6a EURIPIDES 
 
 Weeping ; for word had come that ne'er again 
 The foot of our Hippolytus should roam 
 This land, but waste in exile by thy doom. 
 
 So stood we till he came, and in his tone 
 No music now save sorrow's, like our own, 
 And in his train a concourse without end 
 Of many a chase-fellow and many a friend. 
 At last he brushed his sobs away, and spake : 
 * Why this fond loitering ? I would not break 
 My Father's law. — Ho, there ! My coursers four 
 And chariot, quick I This land is mine no more.' 
 
 Thereat, be sure, each man of us made speed. 
 Swifter than speech we brought them up, each steed 
 Well dight and shining, at our Prince's side. 
 He grasped the reins upon the rail : one stride 
 And there he stood, a perfect charioteer. 
 Each foot in its own station set. Then clear 
 His voice rose, and his arms to heaven were spread : 
 ' O Zeus, if I be false, strike thou me dead I 
 But, dead or living, let my Father see 
 One day, how falsely he hath hated me 1 ' 
 
 Even as he spake, he lifted up the goad 
 And smote ; and the steeds sprang. And down the 
 
 road 
 We henchmen followed, hard beside the rein, 
 Each hand, to speed him, toward the Argive plain 
 And Epidaurus. 
 
 So we made our way 
 Up toward the desert region, where the bay 
 Curls to a promontory near the verge 
 Of our Troz^n, facing the southward surge 
 Of Saron's gulf. Just there an angry sound, 
 Slow-swelling, like God's thunder underground, 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 63 
 
 Broke on us, and we trembled. And the steeds 
 Pricked their ears skjrward, and threw back their heads. 
 And wonder came on all men, and affright. 
 Whence rose that awfiil voice. And swift our sight 
 Turned seaward, down the salt and roaring sand. 
 
 And there, above the horizon, seemed to stand 
 A wave imearthly, crested in the sky ; 
 Till Skiron's Cape first vanished from mine eye. 
 Then sank the Isthmus hidden, then the rock 
 Of Epidaurus. Then it broke, one shock 
 And roar of gasping sea and spray flung far. 
 And shoreward swept, where stood the Prince's car. 
 
 Three lines of wave together raced, and, full 
 In the white crest of them, a wild Sea-Bull 
 Flung to the shore, a fell and marvellous Thing, 
 The whole land held his voice, and answering 
 Roared in each echo. And all we, gazing there. 
 Gazed seeing not ; 'twas more than eyes could bear. 
 
 Then straight upon the team wild terror fell. 
 Howbeit, the Prince, cool-eyed and knowing well 
 Each changing mood a horse has, gripped the reins 
 Hard in both hands ; then as an oarsman strains 
 Up from his bench, so strained he on the thong. 
 Back in the chariot swinging. But the young 
 Wild steeds bit hard the curb, and fled afar ; 
 Nor rein nor guiding hand nor morticed car 
 Stayed them at all. For when he veered them round, 
 And aimed their flying feet to grassy ground. 
 In front uprose that Thing, and turned again 
 The four great coursers, terror-mad. But when 
 Their blind rage drove them toward the rocky places, 
 Silent, and ever nearer to the traces. 
 It followed, rockward, till one wheel-edge grazed. 
 
64 EURIPIDES 
 
 The chariot tript and flew, and all was mazed 
 In turmoil. Up went wheel-box with a din, 
 Where the rock jagged, and nave and axle-pin. 
 And there — the long reins round him — there was he 
 Dragging, entangled irretrievably. 
 A dear head battering at the chariot side. 
 Sharp rocks, and ripped flesh, and a voice that cried : 
 * Stay, stay, O ye who fattened at my stalls. 
 Dash me not into nothing 1 — O thou false 
 Curse of my Father I — Help I Help, whoso can. 
 An innocent, innocent and stainless man ! ' 
 
 Many there were that laboured then, I wot. 
 To bear him succour, but could reach him not. 
 Till — who knows how ? — at last the tangled rein 
 Unclasped him, and he fell, some little vein 
 Of life still pulsing in him. 
 
 All beside, 
 The steeds, the horned Horror of the Tide, 
 Had vanished — who knows where f — in that wild land 
 
 O King, I am a bondsman of thine hand ; 
 Yet love nor fear nor duty me shall win 
 To say thine innocent son hath died in sin. 
 All women born may hang themselves, for me, 
 And swing their dying words from every tree 
 On Ida I For I know that he was true 1 
 
 Leader. 
 O God, so Cometh new disaster, new 
 Despair I And no escape from what must be ! 
 
 Theseus. 
 Hate of the man thus stricken lifted me 
 At first to joy at hearing of thy tale ; 
 But now, some shame before the Gods, some pale 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 6s 
 
 Pity for mine own blood, hath o'er me come. 
 I laugh not, neither weep, at this fell doom. 
 
 Henchman. 
 How then I Behoves it bear him here, or how 
 Best do thy pleasure ? — Speak, Lord. Yet if thou 
 Wilt mark at all my word, thou wilt not be 
 Fierce-hearted to thy child in misery. 
 
 Theseus. 
 Aye, bring him hither. Let me see the face 
 Of him who durst deny my deep disgrace 
 And his own sin ; yea, speak with him, and prove 
 His clear guilt by God's judgments from above. 
 
 [The Henchman departs to fetch Hippolytus ; 
 Theseus sits waiting in stern gloomy while 
 the Chorus sing. At the close of their song a 
 Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud 
 in the air and the voice of Aktzmis speaks. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Thou comest to bend the pride 
 
 Of the hearts of God and man, 
 Cypris ; and by thy side. 
 
 In earth-encircling span. 
 He of the changing plumes, 
 The Wing that the world illumes, 
 As over the leagues of land flies he. 
 Over the salt and sounding sea. 
 
 For mad is the heart of Love, 
 And gold the gleam of his wing ; 
 
 And all to the spell thereof 
 Bend, when he makes his spring ; 
 
66 EURIPIDES 
 
 All life that is wild and young 
 
 In mountain and wave and stream, 
 All that of earth is sprung, 
 
 Or breathes in the red sunbeam ; 
 Yea, and Mankind. O'er all a royal throne, 
 Cyprian, Cyprian, is thine alone ! 
 
 A Voice from the Cloud. 
 
 thou that rulest in Aegeus' Hall, 
 
 1 charge thee, hearken I 
 
 Yea, it is I, 
 Artemis, Virgin of God most High. 
 Thou bitter King, art thou glad withal 
 
 For thy murdered son ? 
 For thine ear bent low to a lying Queen, 
 For thine heart so swift amid things unseen 7 
 Lo, all may see what end thou hast won I 
 Go, sink thine head in the waste abyss ; 
 Or aloft to another world than this, 
 
 Birdwise with wings, 
 
 Fly far to thine hiding. 
 Far over this blood that clots and clings ; 
 For in righteous men and in holy things 
 
 No rest is thine nor abiding I 
 [The cloud has become stationary in the air. 
 
 Hear, Theseus, all the story of thy grief ! 
 Verily, I bring but anguish, not relief ; 
 Yet, 'twas for this I came, to show how high 
 And clean was thy son's heart, that he may dis 
 Honoured of men ; aye, and to tell no less 
 The frenzy, or in some sort the nobleness, 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 67 
 
 Of thy dead wife. One Spirit there is, whom wc 
 That know the joy of white virginity, 
 Most hate in heaven. She sent her fire to run 
 jn Phaedra's veins, so that she loved thy son. 
 Yet strove she long with love, and in the stress 
 FeU not, till by her Nurse's craftiness 
 Betrayed, who stole, with oaths of secrecy. 
 To entreat thy son. And he, most righteously, 
 Nor did her will, nor, when thy railing scorn 
 Beat on him, broke the oath that he had sworn, 
 For God's sake. And thy Phaedra, panic-e)fcd. 
 Wrote a false writ, and slew thy son, and died, 
 Lying ; but thou wast nimble to believe 1 
 
 [Theseus, at first bewildered^ then dumbfiunderedy 
 nQw utters a deep groan. 
 
 It stings thee, Theseus ? — i^ay, hear on, and grieve 
 Yet sorer. Wottest thou three prayers were thine 
 Of sure fulfilment, from thy Sire divine ? 
 Hast thou no foes about thee, then, that one — 
 Thou vile King ! — must be turned against thy 
 
 son ? 
 The deed was thine. Thy Sea-born Sire but heard 
 The call of prayer, and bowed him to his word. 
 But thou in his eyes and in mine art found 
 Evil, who wouldst not think, nor probe, nor sound 
 The deeps of prophet's lore, nor day by day 
 Leave Time to search ; but, swifter than man 
 
 may. 
 Let loose the curse to slay thine innocent son 1 
 
 Theseus. 
 O Goddess, let me die I 
 
68 EURIPIDES 
 
 Artemis. 
 
 Nay ; thou hast done 
 A heavy wrong ; yet even beyond this ill 
 Abides for thee forgiveness. 'Twas the will 
 Of Cypris that these evil things should be, 
 Sating her wrath. And this immutably 
 Hath Zeus ordained in heaven : no God may thwart 
 A God's fixed will ; we grieve but stand apart. 
 Else, but for fear of the Great Father's blame, 
 Never had I to such extreme of shame 
 Bowed me, be sure, as here to stand and see 
 Slain him I loved best of mortality ! 
 
 Thy fault, O King, its ignorance sunders wide 
 From very wickedness ; and she who died 
 By death the more disarmed thee, making dumb 
 The voice of question. And the storm has come 
 Most bitterly of all on thee I Yet I 
 Have mine own sorrow, too. When good men die, 
 There is no joy in heaven, albeit our ire 
 On child and house of the evil falls like fire. 
 
 \J throng is seen approaching; Hippolytus enters, 
 supported by his attendants. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Lo, it is he I The bright young head 
 
 Yet upright there I 
 Ah, the torn flesh and the blood-stained hair ; 
 
 Alas for the kindred's trouble I 
 It falls as fire firom a God's hand sped. 
 
 Two deaths, and mourning double. 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 69 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Ah, pain, pain, pain I 
 O unrighteous curse I O unrighteous sire I 
 No hope. — My head is stabbed with fire^ 
 And a leaping spasm about my brain. 
 Stay, let me r«t. I can no more. 
 O fell, fell steeds that my own hand fed, 
 Have ye maimed mc and slain, that loved me of yore } 
 — Soft there, ye thralls ! No trembling hands 
 As ye lift me, now I — Who is that that stands 
 At the right ? — Now firm, and with measured tread. 
 Lift one accursed and stricken sore 
 By a Other's sinning. 
 
 Thou, Zeus, dost see me ? Yea, it is I ; 
 The proud and pure, the server of God, 
 The white and shining in sanctity I 
 To a visible death, to an open sod, 
 
 I walk my ways ; 
 And all the labour of saintly days 
 
 Lost, lost, without meaning 1 
 
 Ah God, it crawls 
 
 This agony, over me ! 
 Let be, ye thralls I 
 
 Come, Death, and cover me i 
 Come, O thou Healer blest I 
 
 But a little more. 
 
 And my soul is clear. 
 And the anguish o'er 1 
 Oh, a spear, a spear I 
 To rend my soul to its rest I 
 
70 EURIPIDES 
 
 Oh, strange, false Curse 1 Was there some blood- 
 stained head, 
 Some father of my line, unpunished. 
 
 Whose guilt lived in his kin. 
 And passed, and slept, till after this long day 
 It lights. . . . Oh, why on me ? Me, far away 
 
 And innocent of sin ? 
 
 O words that cannot save I 
 
 When will this breathing end in that last deep 
 Pain that is painlessness ? 'Tis sleep I crave. 
 
 When wilt thou bring me sleep. 
 Thou dark and midnight magic of the grave I 
 
 Artemis. 
 
 Sore-stricken man, bethink thee in this stress, 
 Thou dost but die for thine own nobleness. 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Ah I 
 
 O breath of heavenly fragrance ! Though my pain 
 
 Burns, I can feel thee and find rest again. 
 
 The Goddess Artemis is with me here. 
 
 Artemis. 
 With thee and loving thee, poor sufferer I 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Dost see me, Mistress, nearing my last sleep ? 
 
 Artemis. 
 Aye, and would weep for thee, if Gods could weep. 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Who now shall hunt with thee or hold thy quiver ? 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 71 
 
 Artemis. 
 He dies ; but my love cleaves to him for ever. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Who guide thy chariot, keep thy shrine-flowers fresh r 
 
 Artemis. 
 The accursed Cyprian caught him in her mesh I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 The Cyprian ? Now I see it ! — Aye, 'twas she. 
 
 Artemis. 
 She missed her worship, loathed thy chastity ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Three lives by her one hand I 'Tis all clear now. 
 
 Artemis. 
 Yea, three ; thy father and his Queen and thou. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 My fiither ; yea, he too is pitiable I 
 
 Artemis. 
 A plotting Goddess tripped him, and he fell. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Father, where art thou ? . . . Oh, thou su£Ferest sore I 
 
 Theseus. 
 Even unto death, child. There is joy no more. 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 I pity thee in this coil ; aye, more than me. 
 
73 EURIPIDES 
 
 Theseus. 
 Would I could lie there dead instead of thee I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Oh, bitter bounty of Poseidon's love I 
 
 Theseus. 
 Would God my lips had never breathed thereof! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS [gently). 
 Nay, thine own rage had slain me then, some wise I 
 
 Theseus. 
 A lying spirit had made blind mine eyes I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Ah me! 
 
 Would that a mortal's curse could reach to God I 
 
 Artemis. 
 
 Let be I For not, though deep beneath the sod 
 Thou liest, not unrequited nor unsung 
 Shall this fell stroke, from Cypris' rancour sprung, 
 Quell thee, mine own, the saintly and the true I 
 My hand shall win its vengeance, through and 
 through 
 Piercing with flawless shaft what heart soe'er 
 Of all men living is most dear to Her. 
 Yea, and to thee, for this sore travail's sake, 
 Honours most high in Troz€n will I make ; 
 For yokcless maids before their bridal night 
 Shall shear for thee their tresses ; and a rite 
 Of honouring tears be thine in ceaseless store } 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 73 
 
 And virgins' thoughts in music evermore 
 Turn toward thee, and praise thee in the Song 
 Of Phaedra's &r-famed love and thy great wrong. 
 
 O seed of ancient Aegeus, bend thee now 
 And clasp thy son. Aye, hold and fear not thou I 
 Not knowingly hast thou slain him ; and man's way, 
 When Gods send error, needs must fall astray. 
 
 And thou, Hippolytus, shrink not from the King, 
 Thy &ther. Thou wast born to bear this thing. 
 
 Farewell ! I may not watch man's fleeting breath, 
 Nor stain mine eyes with the effluence of death. 
 And sure that Terror now is very near. 
 
 [The cloud slowly rists and floats away. 
 
 Hippolytus. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, most Blessed I Lift thee clear 
 Of soiling men ! Thou wilt not grieve in heaven 
 For my long love ! . . . Father, thou art forgiven. 
 It was Her will. I am not wroth with thee. . . . 
 I have obeyed Her all my days I . . . 
 
 Ah me, 
 The dark is drawing down upon mine eyes ; 
 It hath me I . . . Father ! . . . Hold me 1 Help me 
 rise I 
 
 Theseus {supporting him in his arms). 
 Ah, woe ! How dost thou torture me, my son 1 
 
 Hippolytus. 
 I see the Great Gates opening. I am gone. 
 
 Theseus. 
 Gone ? And my hand red-reeking from this thing ! 
 
74 EURIPIDES 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Nay, nay ; thou art assoiled of manslaying. 
 
 Theseus. 
 Thou leav'st me clear of murder ? Sayst thou so ? 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Yea, by the Virgin of the Stainless Bow I 
 
 Theseus. 
 Dear Son 1 Ah, now I sec thy nobleness ! 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Pray that a true-born child may fill my place. 
 
 Theseus. 
 Ah me, thy righteous and godfearing heart ! 
 
 _ „ HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Farewell ; 
 
 A long farewell, dear Father, ere we part ! 
 
 [Theseus bends down and embraces him passionately, 
 
 Theseus. 
 Not yet I — O hope and bear while thou hast breath I 
 
 HiPPOLYTUS. 
 
 Lo, I have borne my burden. This is death. . . . 
 Quick, Father ; lay the mantle on my face. 
 
 [Theseus covers his face with a mantle and riseu 
 
 Theseus. 
 Ye bounds of Pallas and of Pelops' race. 
 What greatness have ye lost ! 
 
 Woe, woe is me ! 
 Thou Cyprian, long shall I remember thee I 
 
HIPPOLYTUS 
 
 75 
 
 Chori». 
 
 On all this folk, both low and high, 
 A grief hath &llen beyond men's fears. 
 There cometh a throbbing of many tears, 
 
 A sound as of waters Ming. 
 For when great men die, 
 A mighty name and a bitter cry 
 
 Rise up from a nation calling. 
 [They movt into thi Castle, carrying the body «/ 
 
 HlPPOLYTUS. 
 
NOTES ON THE HIPPOLYTUS 
 
 Prologue. — The Aphrodite of Euripides' actual 
 belief, if one may ventxire to dogmatise on such a 
 subject, was almost certainly not what we should call 
 a goddess, but rather a Force of Nature, or a Spirit 
 working in the world. To deny her existence you 
 would have to say not merely, "There is no such 
 person," but " There is no such thing ; " and such a 
 denial would be a defiance of obvious facts. It is in 
 this sense that it is possible to speak of Hippolytus as 
 "sinning against Aphrodite." 
 
 For the purposes of drama, of course, this " thing " 
 must be made into a person, and even represented in 
 human form according to the current conceptions of 
 mythology. And, once personified, she becomes, like 
 most of die Olympians in Euripides, certainly hateful 
 and perhaps definitely evil, though still far removed 
 from the degraded, ultra^feminine goddess of Ovid and 
 the handbooks of mythology. In this prologue she 
 retains much of the impersonal grandeur of a Force of 
 Nature. The words " I grudge it not : no grudge 
 know I, nor hate," are doubtless intended to be true. 
 
 P. 3, L 1 1, Pittheus.] — Father of Aethra, who was 
 Theseus' mother. Formerly King of TrozSn, now 
 ending his days in a life of meditation. 
 
 P. 4, U. 31 ff.. She built a shrine.] — An obscure 
 
 passage, in which I follow the suggestion of Dr. 
 
 177, 
 
78 EURIPIDES 
 
 Verrall {Class. Rev. xv. 449). Euripides is evidentlj' 
 giving an account of the origin of a sanctuary of 
 Aphrodite Pand^mos on the Acropolis, which in his 
 day was known as 'A<f>poBirr) iirl ' ImroKintf, i.e. (as, 
 at least, he imagined) " Aphrodite for Hippolytus," or 
 "with a view to Hippolytus." Phaedra, he says, 
 built this shrine because of, thinking of, Hippolytus 
 — /.«. seeking to exorcise her passion for him, and to 
 fix her errant love at home as she fixed the shrine in 
 the rock. She perhaps — so Dr. Verrall suggests — 
 called it Aphrodite Enddmos, "Love-at-home" or 
 " in-the-land." When her plan failed, and it appeared 
 that Love will not be fixed down in one place, the name 
 was changed to PandSmos, " of-all-lands." Of course 
 it is not certain, nor even very probable, that either 
 UdvZriiiot or eVl 'IirrroKvrtp originally bore the mean- 
 ing that Euripides and his contemporaries attached to 
 them. 'jEtti ' IinroKvTfpf for instance, is quite likely, 
 in its original form, to have meant " the shrine at the 
 place where horses are unyoked." 
 
 P. 6, 1. 73, From a green and virgin meadow.] 
 — There are long discussions in the ancient Greek 
 commentators, whether this meadow is real or alle- 
 gorical. Is it only the garland of his adoration from 
 the meadow of his virgin soul ? " It seems odd," says 
 one of them, " to have a meadow which you are not 
 allowed to enter until you can show that your good 
 qualities do not come from education ! " Doubtless 
 it is a real sacred meadow. 
 
 Pp. 7, 8, 11. 99, 103. — In two lines, " Then why wilt 
 thou be proud ? " and " Clean ? Nay, proud," I follow 
 my own published text, reading a-efivos for creui/^ and 
 tr€fivij. 
 
NOTES 79 
 
 P. 9, 1. 121, Of Ocean's tribe.] — The river Ocean 
 was, by some accounts, the father of all fresh and 
 pure water. 
 
 P. 10, 11. 142, 143, Hecate . . . Pan ... the Cory- 
 bantes.] — These powers all produced seizures, terrors, 
 and ecstasies. Dictynna (often a mere alternative 
 name for Artemis) was, strictly speaking, a Cretan sea- 
 goddess— cf. SiicTvov, " a net " — a hunter of the sea as 
 Artemis is a hunter of the land, (She is identified wit!i 
 Artemis on p. 59.) She can catch Phaedra in Limna, 
 the " Mere " in the neighbourhood of TrozSn, because 
 Limna is a dried-up lagoon that was once part of th^ 
 sea, and therefore belongs to the sea powers. 
 
 P. 10, 1. 151, Erechtheus.] — An old king 0^ 
 Athens. 
 
 P. 12, 11. 193, 194, This nameless and shining thing.] 
 — Reading toO S' art tovto <TTi\0ei . . . hvaeptore<{. 
 
 P. 13, 1. 228, The Sea-lorn Mere.] — The dried 
 lagoon, Limna, near TrozSn, used for chariot races. 
 The " unseaswept sands," just below, are the same. 
 
 P. 15, 11. 264, 265.— "Thorough" and "Naught 
 too much" were mottoes of two of the legendary 
 Seven Wise Men, 
 
 P. 16, 1. 281, He is on a journey.] — Apparently to 
 an oracle (see below). Perhaps there was a definite 
 tradition saying where he had gone and why, but if so, 
 it is lost. A modern playwright would, of course, fill 
 in these details, for the sake of verisimilitude; the 
 ancient playwright intentionally omits them as irre- 
 levant, just as he omits to give proper names to hit 
 Nurses, Messengers, and Leaders of the Chorus. 
 
 P. 19, 1. 325, What wouldst thou ? Force CacJ— . 
 It was of the nature of sin to reject a suppliant, /a 
 
8o EURIPIDES 
 
 a person who threv' himself entirely upon your mercy, 
 and implored you. The repugnance that an ordi- 
 nary person has to such a rejection was felt by the 
 Greeks in a religious way. The ultimate sanction, 
 if you did harden your heart, would be twofold : first, 
 the gods would have a natural repulsion against one 
 who formally and knowingly refused to be merciful f 
 secondly, the suppliant might do what the Nurs« 
 threatens to do here, and stay immovable till he died 
 of hunger or exposure — and his death would lie at the 
 door of his rejector ! 
 
 P. 20, 11. 337-341, Mother, poor Mother, that didst 
 love so sore.] — Phaedra thinks of the general wreck 
 of her house through love. Her mother, PasiphaS, 
 wife of Minos, loved the pirate or adventurer Tauros 
 (" The Bull "), was cast into prison by her husband, 
 and there starved herself to death (see Appendix, The 
 Cretans). Her sister, AriadnS, had loved Theseus ; 
 he saved her from her father's vengeance, but by com- 
 mand of the gods left her on the lonely island of Naxos, 
 where the god Dionysus came and carried her away 
 (see Appendix, The Theseus). 
 
 P. 22, 1. 372, The Isle of awful Love.J — Crete, 
 because of PasiphaS, AriadnS, Aerop6, the wife of 
 Thyestcs, and other heroines of terrible love-stories. 
 
 P. 23, 1. 373, O Women, dwellers in this portaU 
 seat.] — This wonderful passage is very characteristic 
 of Exiripides — a subtle and beautiful study of character 
 expressed in a formal, self-analysing speech, The 
 "delights" that have tempted and undone her are, 
 first, the pleasure of long talks — with Hippolytus, or 
 about him; next, the pleasure of losing herself in 
 dreams ; and thirdly, in some sense not precisely 
 
NOTES 8i 
 
 explained, but surely not difficult to understand, a feel- 
 ing of shame or cowardice. She feels that if only she 
 had had more courage all might have been well 1 
 Why this " shame," this yielding to fear, strikes her 
 at this moment as a " delight," is not explained ; but 
 it does not seem to me unnatural. 
 
 P. 25, 1. 433, Mistress, a sharp, swift terror, &c.] — 
 This speech of the Nurse, so beautiful and so full of 
 sophistries, is typically the kind of thing that caused 
 Euripides to be accused of immoral writing. 
 
 P. 28, 1. 478, Love-philtres.] — The situation at 
 the end of this scene seems to be this : The Nurse 
 goes in to prepare a magic charm which shall cure 
 Phaedra of her love, but mentions that, in order to 
 prepare it, she must get something belonging to 
 Hippolytus to weave into the charm. (Either a 
 material object to be actually woven into the charm, 
 or a word, to be ceremonially caught and woven in 
 — a common device in magic.) Phaedra suspects that 
 she means to speak to Hippolytus, and the Nurse's 
 next words rather confirm her suspicions ; but, broken 
 and weary as she is, she has not strength or keenness 
 of mind enough to make sure and to prevent her doing 
 so. A large part of her nature, no doubt, longs to have 
 Hippolytus told, and succeeds at this critical moment 
 in lulling to sleep her exhausted will and conscience. 
 
 P. 30, 11, 545-564, Chorus.] — The second strophe 
 and anti^trophe (" On Oechalian hills, &c."), are rather 
 obscure. The connection of thought is : " Think of 
 the terrible things that have befallen through love ! 
 How lolS, daughter of Eurytus, suffered, when the 
 angry love of Heracles made him burn her father's 
 house in O^chalia, and carry her off amid flames and 
 
82 EURIPIDES 
 
 blood. And how Semeld, the mother of Bacchus, 
 suffered ii) Thebes by the waters of Dirc6, when 
 Zeus came to her in a blaze of lightning, ard his love 
 was her death." 
 
 P. 33, 1. 6 1 2, 'Twas but my tongue, 'twas not 
 my soul that swore.] — A line constantly misrepre- 
 sented and attacked (see on Frogs, 1. loi, p. 187). In 
 reality Hippolytus faces death rather than break the 
 oath that he was trapped into. 
 
 P. 34, I. 616, O God, why hast thou made this 
 gleaming snare.] — The fury of this speech, while not 
 unnatural to the youthful saintliness of Hippolytus, 
 is intentionally made bitter and offensive by the play- 
 wright, so as to throw our sympathies for the time 
 entirely on the side of Phaedra. We hate Hippolytus, 
 and can for the moment sympathise with, or at least 
 understand, her terrible act of blind self-preservation 
 and revenge. 
 
 P. 36, 1. 690, He speeds to abase me to the King.] 
 — He had definitely said that he would not do so; 
 but she felt his hatred, she had no reason to trust 
 him, she had just been betrayed by one much closer 
 to her, and probably she had hardly even noticed the 
 actual words in his torrent of rage. 
 
 P. 38, 1. 712, Know naught and speak of naught] 
 — This oath of the Chorus is important for the sequel 
 of the play. It prevents them from saving Hippolytus. 
 
 P» 39> J- 732> Could I take me to some cavern for 
 mine hiding,] — This lovely song seems to me a good 
 instance of the artistic value of the Greek chorus. 
 The last scene has been tragic to the point of pain- 
 fiilness ; the one thing that can heal the pain without 
 spoiling the interest is an outburst of pure poetry. 
 
NOTES 83 
 
 And the sentiment of this song, the longing to escape 
 to a realm, if not of happiness, at least of beautiful 
 sadness, is so magically right. 
 
 FhaSthon, who tried to drive the chariot of the Sun 
 and fell, was buried by the river Eridanus (afterwards 
 identified with the Po). His sisters wept over his 
 grave, and their tears turned to drops of amber. 
 
 P. 39, 1. 742, The apple-tree, the singing and the 
 gold.] — The Garden of the Hesperides, or Daughters 
 of the Sunset, was in the West, near the Pillars of 
 Heracles, which marked the utmost limit to which 
 man might travel. The apple-tree bore golden 
 apples, and it was here that Zeus walked in the 
 garden and first met his bride, Hera. 
 
 P. 40, 1. 756, Sure some spell upon either hand,] — 
 A curse or spell must have come with her from Crete. 
 It was difficult for a curse to come from one country 
 to another. Exactly like infection, it had to be some- 
 how carried. The women suggest that it came with 
 Phaedra in the ship, and then, when the ship was 
 moored in Munychia, the old harbour of Athens, it 
 crawled up the cables to the shore. 
 
 P. 42, 1. 803, A fit of the old cold anguish ?] — It 
 is characteristic of Euripides to throw these sudden 
 lights back on the history of his characters. We 
 never knew before (except perhaps from the Pro- 
 logue) thaf Phaedra had had these fits of "cold 
 anguish," or that Theseus had noticed them. Cf. p. 
 56, where for the first time we have a reference to 
 Theseus' own turbulent youth, and his crime against 
 the Amazon, Hippolytus' mother. And p. 50, where 
 we first hear that Hippolytus fasted and followed 
 Orphic rites. 
 
84 EURIPIDES 
 
 P. 42, 1. 804, But now arrived we be.] — A lie, to 
 make the avoidance of explanations easier. 
 
 Pp. 43 f., 11. 817-851.] — The laments of Theseus, 
 though they cannot compensate for the drop of dra- 
 matic interest after Phaedra's death, are full of beauty 
 and also of character. They bring out clearly the 
 passionateness of the old hero, and also the way ip 
 which he only gradually, and then with increasing 
 emotion, realises his loss. 
 
 P. 51, 1. 977.] — Sinis was a robber slain by Theseus 
 at the Isthmus of Corinth. He tied his victims to 
 the tops of pine-trees, which he had bent to the 
 ground, and, according to Hyginus, sent them flying 
 in the air so that they fell and were killed ; as 
 Pausanias rather more intelligibly puts it, he tied them 
 between two pines, which he had bent together, and 
 then let the pines spring back and rack the men 
 asunder. Skiron was another robber in the same 
 neighbourhood ; he made travellers wash his feet on 
 the top of a cliff — the Skironian Rock (cf. p. 63) — 
 and then kicked them into the sea. 
 
 PP' 5i-54> 11- 983ff.> Hippolytus' speech.] — The 
 ineffectiveness of this speech is, of course, intentional 
 on the poet's part. The one effective answer for 
 Hippolytus would be to break his oath and tell the 
 whole truth. As k is, he can do nothing but appeal 
 to his known character, and plead passionately against 
 all the inferences that his father has drawn as to his 
 general hypocrisy. 
 
 P. 54, 1. 1036, It is enough.] — The Chorus, de- 
 barred from announcing the truth, catch at any straws 
 that tell in &vour of the truth. 
 
 P. 54, 1. 1041, Father, 'tis thy mood that makes me 
 
NOTES 85' 
 
 marvel.] — He means, I think, to make Theseus realise 
 that the charge is flatly incredible. " You yourself do 
 not believe that I have done such a thing < I know, 
 and you know, that you do not believe it. If you did, 
 you would kill me on the spot, not go on talking like 
 this." 
 
 P. 55, 1. 1057, No prophet's lot.] — A prophet spoke 
 from some "sign" or "lot" which he interpreted. 
 This might be an actual " lot," drawn or cast ; or by 
 extension, any other sign, from the flesh of a victim or 
 from the flight of birds. 
 
 P. 60, 1. 1 142, And I, even I, &c.] — The song of 
 this maiden may have given Racine the hint of his 
 additional character, Aricie, the princess whom his 
 Hippolyte loves. 
 
 P. 62, 1. 1 195, And down the road we henchmen 
 followed.] — They walked or ran beside the chariot, 
 accompanying their master to the frontier. Ancient 
 chariots, when used for travelling, went slowly. 
 
 P. 70, 1. 1391, breath of heavenly fragrance, &c.] 
 — This and the next line make one doubt whether 
 Artemis was supposed to be visible, or only present 
 as a voice. Cf. p. 6, 1. 86, " Though none may see 
 thine eyes." 
 
 P. 72, 1. 1420, My hand shall win its vengeance.] — 
 By causing the death of Addnis, whom Aphrodite 
 loved, It is noteworthy how Euripides' moral hatred 
 of the orthodox Olympian gods breaks out even in 
 this passage, otherwise so exquisitely beautiful. The 
 human beings are full of love and mutual forgiveness. 
 The goddess, radiantly lovely as she is and pure with 
 the purity of dawn, still thinks of revenge, and — » 
 appears at her departure — is, in some profoundly tragic 
 
Sff EURIPIDES 
 
 sense, unloving : a being to be adored, not to love 
 back. The last consolation of Hippolytus is the 
 thought of his perfect devotion to one who in the 
 nature of things can care for him only a little : " I 
 have obeyed Her all my days." 
 
 The thing that is missing from Artemis is exactly 
 what is present in the beautiful vase picture of the 
 Dawn Goddess raising in her arms the body of her 
 slain son, Memnon. 
 
 This last scene is one of those passages which show 
 the ultimate falseness of the distinction between Classi- 
 cal and Romantic. The highest poetry has the beauty 
 of both. 
 
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