Chapter XXIII: Act III

_Theseus:_ At last have I escaped from endless night, 835
That shadowy realm which close confines the dead.
And now my eyes can scarce endure the light
Which I have long desired. Eleusin now
Has four times reaped her ripened grain, the gift
Triptolemus bestowed; thrice and again
Has Libra measured equal day and night,
Since dubious battling with an unknown fate
Has held me in the toils of life and death. 840
To me, though dead to all things else, one part
Of life remained, the consciousness of ill.
Alcides was the end. When he came down
To bring the dog by force from Tartarus,
He brought me also to the upper world. 845
But ah, my wearied frame has lost the strength
It had of old; I walk with faltering steps.
Alas! how great a task it was to reach
The world of light from lower Phlegethon,
To flee from death and follow Hercules!
But why this sound of wailing in my ears? 850
Let someone tell; for agonies of woe
And grief and lamentations sad I meet
Upon the very threshold of my home--
A fitting welcome to a guest from hell.

_Nurse:_ The queen is obstinately bent on death,
And scorns the strong remonstrance of our tears. 855

_Theseus:_ Why should she die, her husband safe returned?

_Nurse:_ That very cause compels her speedy death.

_Theseus:_ Thy words are dark and hide some weighty truth.
Speak out and tell what grief weighs down her soul.

_Nurse:_ She tells her grief to none. Some secret woe 860
She hides within her heart, and is resolved
To take her secret with her to the grave.
But speed thee to her; there is need of haste.

_Theseus:_ Unbar the close-shut portals of my house.

[_The doors are opened and_ Theseus _encounters his wife just within_.]

_Theseus_ [_to_ Phaedra]: My queen, is't thus thou dost receive thy
lord,
And welcome back thy husband long desired? 865
Nay, put away the sword from thy right hand,
And give me heart again. Reveal to me
The cause that forces thee to flee from life.

_Phaedra:_ Alas, great Theseus, by thy kingly power,
And by thy children's souls, by thy return, 870
And by my ashes, suffer me to die.

_Theseus:_ What cause compels thy death?

_Phaedra:_ The fruit of death
Would perish if I let its cause be known.

_Theseus:_ None else shall hear it save myself alone.

_Phaedra:_ A chaste wife fears her husband most of all.

_Theseus:_ Speak out; I'll hide thy secret in my heart. 875

_Phaedra:_ The secret thou wouldst have another guard,
First guard thyself.

_Theseus:_ No chance of death thou'lt find.

_Phaedra:_ Death cannot fail the heart that's bent on death.

_Theseus:_ Confess what sin must be atoned by death.

_Phaedra:_ My life.

_Theseus:_ Will not my tears avail with thee? 880

_Phaedra:_ That death is best which one's own friends lament.

_Theseus:_ She still persists in silence. By the lash
And chains shall her old nurse be forced to tell
What she will not declare. Put her in chains.
Now let the lash lay bare her hidden thoughts.

_Phaedra:_ Hold, stay thy hand, for I myself will speak. 885

_Theseus:_ Why dost thou turn thy grieving face away,
And hide the quickly rising shower of tears
Behind thy robe?

_Phaedra:_ Thee, thee do I invoke,
O father of the gods, and thee, O Sun,
Thou shining glory of the heavenly dome,
On whom as founder doth our house depend, 890
I call ye both to witness that I strove
Against his prayers, though sorely tried. To threats
Of death my spirit did not yield; but force
O'ercame my body. This the shameful stain
Upon my honor which my blood must cleanse.

_Theseus:_ Come, tell, who hath defiled our honor so?

_Phaedra:_ Whom thou wouldst least expect. 895

_Theseus:_ But who is he?
I wait to hear his name.

_Phaedra:_ This sword shall tell,
Which in his terror at our loud laments,
The adulterer left, fearing the citizens.

_Theseus:_ Ah me! What villainy do I behold?
What monstrous deed is this? The royal sword,
Its ivory hilt with tiny signs engraved,
Shines out, the glory of the Athenian race. 900
But he--where has he gone?

_Phaedra:_ These slaves have seen
How, borne on speeding feet, he fled away.

_Theseus:_ Oh, holy piety! O thou who reign'st
In heaven, and thou who rulest in the seas,
Whence came this base infection of our race? 905
Was he of Grecian birth, or did he spring
From Scythian Taurus or some Colchian stream?
The type reverts to its ancestral stock,
And blood ignoble but repeats its source.
This is the madness of that savage race,
To scorn all lawful love, and prostitute 910
At last the long-chaste body to the crowd.
Oh, loathsome race, restrained by no good laws
Which milder climes revere! The very beasts
Shun love incestuous, and keep the laws
Of nature with instinctive chastity.
Where is that face, that feigned austerity, 915
That rough and careless garb that sought to ape
The ancient customs? Where that aspect stern,
That sour severity which age assumes?
O life, two-faced! How thou dost hide thy thoughts!
For fairest faces cover foulest hearts;
The chaste demeanor hides inchastity; 920
The gentle, boldness; seeming goodness, sin.
False men approve the truth; the faint of heart
Affect a blustering mood. O thou, of woods
Enamored, savage, rough and virgin pure,
Didst thou reserve thyself for me alone?
On my couch first and with so fell a crime 925
Wast thou inclined to try thy manly powers?
Now, now I thank the kindly gods of heaven
That long ago I slew Antiope;
That, when I went below to Stygian caves,
I did not leave thy mother for thy lust.
Go, get thee far away to unknown lands;
And there, though to her utmost bounds removed, 930
The earth should hem thee off by ocean's wastes;
Though thou shouldst dwell at the Antipodes;
Though to the frigid northern realms thou go,
And deep within her farthest caverns hide;
Or, though beyond the reach of winter placed, 935
And drifting snows, thou leave the boisterous threats
Of frosty Boreas in mad pursuit:
Thou still shalt meet thy fitting punishment.
Persistent shall I chase thee in thy flight
Through all thy hiding-places. Ways remote,
Hemmed in, secluded, hard and trackless ways,
I'll traverse in pursuit. No obstacle 940
Shall block my way. Thou know'st whence I return.
And whither spears cannot be hurled at thee
I'll hurl my prayers. My father of the sea
Once promised me that thrice I might prevail
With him in prayer, and ratified the boon
By oath upon the inviolable Styx.
[_To_ Neptune.]
Thou ruler of the sea, the boon bestow, 945
And grant my prayer: let not Hippolytus
Live to behold another sun's bright rays,
But may he go to meet those shades of hell
Enraged at my escape. O father, now
I pray that aid which still I deprecate.
This last of thy three boons I would not use, 950
If I were not beset by grievous ills.
Amidst the depths of hell and dreadful Dis,
Amidst the infernal king's pursuing threats,
I did not call on thee. But now I claim
Thy promise, father. Why delay thine aid?
Why are thy waves inactive? Let the winds 955
That drive the blackening clouds bring darkness on;
Snatch stars and sky from sight; pour forth the sea;
Arouse thy watery monsters, and let loose
On him from ocean's depths thy swelling waves.

[_Exit_ Theseus.]

_Chorus_: Great nature, mother of the gods,
And thou, fire-girt Olympus' lord, 960
Who speedest through the flying skies
The scattered stars, the wandering ways
Of constellations, and the heavens
Upon their whirling axes turn'st:
Why is thy care so great to keep
The annual highways of the air, 965
That now the hoary frosts may strip
The woods of leaves, and now the trees
May spread once more their pleasant shade;
That now the summer's fervent heat
May ripen Ceres' gift, and soon 970
Her strength the Autumn may subdue?
But why, though thou dost rule so wide,
Though in thy hand the ponderous worlds
Are poised, and calmly wheel along
Their appointed ways, why dost thou shun
The affairs of men and have no care
For them? Art not solicitous 975
That good should prosper, and that sin
Receive its just deserts? But no:
Blind Fortune rules the affairs of men,
Dispensing with unthinking hand
Her gifts, oft favoring the worst. 980
And so the violent oppress
The innocent; and fraud holds sway
In highest places. To the hands
Of brutish men the rabble most
Rejoice to trust their government;
The same they honor and they hate,
With fickle will. Sad virtue finds
Her recompense for righteousness
All gone away; and poverty, 985
Relentless, follows innocence;
While, deep intrenched in wickedness,
The adulterer sits secure, and reigns.
O modesty--an empty name!
And worth--a glorious cheat!
But what would yonder messenger announce,
Who comes in haste, with woeful countenance? 990