Hippolytus

Perseus Greek · Perseus Greek · 516 sections

310b
Oh! oh!
310c
Ha! doth that touch the quick?
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Thou hast undone me, nurse; I do adjure by the gods, mention that man no more.
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There now! thou art thyself again, but e’en yet refusest to aid thy children and preserve thy life.
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My babes I love, but there is another storm that buffets me.
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Daughter, are thy hands from bloodshed pure?
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My hands are pure, but on my soul there rests a stain.
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The issue of some enemy’s secret witchery?
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A friend is my destroyer, one unwilling as myself.
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Hath Theseus wronged thee in any wise?
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Never may I prove untrue to him
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Then what strange mystery is there that drives thee on to die?
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O, let my sin and me alone! ’tis not ’gainst thee I sin.
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Never willingly! and, if I fail, ’twill rest at thy door.
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How now? thou usest force in clinging to my hand.
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Yea, and I will never loose my hold upon thy knees.
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Alas for thee! my sorrows, shouldst thou learn them, would recoil on thee.
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What keener grief for me than failing to win thee?
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’Twill be death to thee; though to me that brings renown.
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And dost thou then conceal this boon despite my prayers?
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I do, for ’tis out of shame I am planning an honourable escape.
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Tell it, and thine honour shall the brighter shine.
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Away, I do conjure thee; loose my hand.
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I will not, for the boon thou shouldst have granted me is denied.
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I will grant it out of reverence for thy holy sup- pliant touch.
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Henceforth I hold my peace; ’tis thine to speak from now.
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Ah! hapless mother, what a love was thine!
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Her love for the bull? daughter, or what meanest thou?
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And woe to thee! my sister, bride of Dionysus.
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What ails thee, child? speaking ill of kith and kin.
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Myself the third to suffer! how am I undone!
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Thou strik’st me dumb! Where will this history end?
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That love has been our curse from time long past.
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I know no more of what I fain would learn.
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Ah! would thou couldst say for me what I have to tell.
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I am no prophetess to unriddle secrets.
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What is it they mean when they talk of people being in love?
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At once the sweetest and the bitterest thing, my child.
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I shall only find the latter half.
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Ha! my child, art thou in love?
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The Amazon’s son, whoever he may be,—
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Mean’st thou Hippolytus?
352b
’Twas thou, not I, that spoke his name.
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O heavens! what is this, my child? Thou hast ruined me. Outrageous! friends; I will not live and bear it;
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hateful is life, hateful to mine eyes the light. This body I resign, will cast it off, and rid me of existence by my death. Farewell, my life is o’er. Yea, for the chaste have wicked passions, ’gainst their will maybe, but still they have. Cypris, it seems, is not a goddess after all,
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but something greater far, for she hath been the ruin of my lady and of me and our whole family.
1.362
O, too clearly didst thou hear our queen uplift her voice to tell her startling tale of piteous suffering. Come death ere I reach thy state of feeling, loved mistress.
1.365
O horrible! woe, for these miseries! woe, for the sorrows on which mortals feed! Thou art undone! thou hast disclosed thy sin to heaven’s light. What hath each passing day and every hour in store for thee?
1.370
Some strange event will come to pass in this house. For it is no longer uncertain where the star of thy love is setting, thou hapless daughter of Crete.
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Ladies of Troezen, who dwell here upon the frontier edge of Pelops’ land,
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oft ere now in heedless mood through the long hours of night have I wondered why man’s life is spoiled; and it seems to me their evil case is not due to any natural fault of judgment, for there be many dowered with sense, but we must view the matter in this light;
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by teaching and experience we learn the right but neglect it in practice, some from sloth, others from preferring pleasure of some kind or other to duty. Now life has many pleasures, protracted talk, and leisure, that seductive evil;
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likewise there is shame which is of two kinds, one a noble quality, the other a curse to families; but if for each its proper time were clearly known, these twain could not have had the selfsame letters to denote them.
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So then since I had made up my mind on these points, ’twas not likely any drug would alter it
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and make me think the contrary. And I will tell thee too the way my judgment went. When love wounded me, I bethought me how I best might bear the smart. So from that day forth I began to hide in silence what I suffered.
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For I put no faith in counsellors, who know well to lecture others for presumption, yet themselves have countless troubles of their own. Next I did devise noble endurance of these wanton thoughts, striving by continence for victory.
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And last when I could not succeed in mastering love hereby, methought it best to die; and none can gainsay my purpose. For fain I would my virtue should to all appear, my shame have few to witness it.
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I knew my sickly passion now; to yield to it I saw how infamous; and more, I learnt to know so well that I was but a woman, a thing the world detests. Curses, hideous curses on that wife, who first did shame her marriage-vow for lovers other than her lord! ’Twas from noble families
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this curse began to spread among our sex. For when the noble countenance disgrace, poor folk of course will think that it is right. Those too I hate who make profession of purity, though in secret reckless sinners.
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How can these, queen Cypris, ocean’s child, e’er look their husbands in the face? do they never feel one guilty thrill that their accomplice, night, or the chambers of their house will find a voice and speak?
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This it is that calls on me to die, kind friends,
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that so I may ne’er be found to have disgraced my lord, or the children I have born; no! may they grow up and dwell in glorious Athens, free to speak and act, heirs to such fair fame as a mother can bequeath. For to know that father or mother have sinned doth turn
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the stoutest heart to slavishness. This alone, men say, can stand the buffets of life’s battle, a just and virtuous soul in whomsoever found. For time unmasks the villain sooner or later, holding up to them a mirror as to some blooming maid.
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’Mongst such may I be never seen!
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Now look! how fair is chastity however viewed, whose fruit is good repute amongst men.
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My queen, ’tis true thy tale of woe, but lately told, did for the moment strike me with wild alarm,
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but now I do reflect upon my foolishness; second thoughts are often best even with men. Thy fate is no uncommon one nor past one’s calculations; thou art stricken by the passion Cypris sends. Thou art in love; what wonder? so are many more.
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Wilt thou, because thou lov’st, destroy thyself? ’Tis little gain, I trow, for those who love or yet may love their fellows, if death must be their end; for though the Love-Queen’s onset in her might is more than man can bear, yet doth she gently visit yielding hearts,
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and only when she finds a proud unnatural spirit, doth she take and mock it past belief. Her path is in the sky, and mid the ocean’s surge she rides; from her all nature springs; she sows the seeds of love, inspires the warm desire
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to which we sons of earth all owe our being. They who have aught to do with books of ancient scribes, or themselves engage in studious pursuits, know how Zeus of Semele was enamoured,
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how the bright-eyed goddess of the Dawn once stole Cephalus to dwell in heaven for the love she bore him; yet these in heaven abide nor shun the gods’ approach, content, I trow, to yield to their misfortune.
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Wilt thou refuse to yield? thy sire, it seems, should have begotten thee on special terms
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or with different gods for masters, if in these laws thou wilt not acquiesce. How many, prithee, men of sterling sense, when they see their wives unfaithful, make as though they saw it not? How many fathers, when their sons have gone astray,
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assist them in their amours? ’tis part of human wisdom to conceal the deed of shame. Nor should man aim at excessive refinement in his life; for they cannot with exactness finish
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e’en the roof that covers in a house; and how dost thou, after falling into so deep a pit, think to escape? Nay, if thou hast more of good than bad, thou wilt fare exceeding well, thy human nature considered.
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O cease, my darling child, from evil thoughts, let wanton pride be gone, for this is naught else,
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this wish to rival gods in perfectness. Face thy love; ’tis heaven’s will thou shouldst. Sick thou art, yet turn thy sickness to some happy issue. For there are charms and spells to soothe the soul; surely some cure for thy disease will be found.
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Men, no doubt, might seek it long and late if our women’s minds no scheme devise.
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Although she gives thee at thy present need the wiser counsel, Phaedra, yet do I praise thee. Still my praise may sound more harsh
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and jar more cruelly on thy ear than her advice.
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’Tis even this, too plausible a tongue, that overthrows good governments and homes of men. We should not speak to please the ear but point the path that leads to noble fame.
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What means this solemn speech? No need of rounded phrases; but at once must we sound the prince, telling him frankly how it is with thee. Had not thy life to such a crisis come, or wert thou with self-control endowed,
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ne’er would I to gratify thy passions have urged thee to this course; but now ’tis a struggle fierce to save thy life, and therefore less to blame.
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Accursed proposal! peace, woman! never utter those shameful words again!
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Shameful, maybe, yet for thee better than honour’s code. Better this deed, if it shall save thy life, than that name thy pride will kill thee to retain.
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I conjure thee, go no further! for thy words are plausible but infamous; for though as yet
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love has not undermined my soul, yet, if in specious words thou dress thy foul suggestion, I shall be beguiled into the snare from which I am now escaping.
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If thou art of this mind, ’twere well thou ne’er hadst sinned; but as it is, hear me; for that is the next best course; I in my house have charms
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to soothe thy love,—’twas but now I thought of them;—these shall cure thee of thy sickness on no disgraceful terms, thy mind unhurt, if thou wilt be but brave.
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But from him thou lovest we must get some token, a word or fragment of his robe,
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and thereby unite in one love’s twofold stream.
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Is thy drug a salve or potion?
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I cannot tell; be content, my child, to profit by it and ask no questions.
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I fear me thou wilt prove too wise for me.
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If thou fear this, confess thyself afraid of all; but why thy terror?
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Lest thou shouldst breathe a word of this to Theseus’ son.
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Peace, my child! I will do all things well; only be thou, queen Cypris, ocean’s child, my partner in the work! And for the rest of my purpose, it will be enough for me to tell it to Our friends within the house. [Exit Nurse.
1.525
O Love, Love, that from the eyes diffusest soft desire, bringing on the souls of those, whom thou dost camp against, sweet grace, O never in evil mood appear to me, nor out of time and tune approach!
1.530
Nor fire nor meteor hurls a mightier bolt than Aphrodite’s shaft shot by the hands of Love, the child of Zeus.
1.535
Idly, idly by the streams of Alpheus and in the Pythian shrines of Phoebus, Hellas heaps the slaughtered steers; while Love we worship not, Love, the king of men, who holds the key to Aphrodite’s

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