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The Bacchae
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HIPPOLYTUS and THE BACCHAE
By Euripides
Translated by GILBERT MURRAY
Nine Greek Dramas
By Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides And
Aristophanes
Translations By
E.D.A. Morshead
E.H.
Plumptre
Gilbert Murray
And
B.B. Rogers
INTRODUCTORY NOTE
Euripides, the youngest of the trio of great Greek tragedians was born at Salamis in 480 B.C., on the day when the Greeks won their momentous naval victory there over the fleet of the Persians. The precise social status of his parents is not clear but he received a good education, was early distinguished as an athlete, and showed talent in painting and oratory. He was a fellow student of Pericles, and his dramas show the influence of the philosophical ideas of Anaxagoras and of Socrates, with whom he was personally intimate. Like Socrates, he was accused of impiety, and this, along with domestic infelicity, has been supposed to afford a motive for his withdrawal from Athens, first to Magnesia and later to the court of Archelaüs in Macedonia where he died in 406 B.C.
The first tragedy of Euripides was produced when he was about twenty-five, and he was several times a victor in the tragic contests. In spite of the antagonisms which he aroused and the criticisms which were hurled upon him in, for example, the comedies of Aristophanes, he attained a very great popularity; and Plutarch tells that those Athenians who were taken captive in the disastrous Sicilian expedition of 413 B.C. were offered freedom by their captors if they could recite from the works of Euripides. Of the hundred and twenty dramas ascribed to Euripides, there have come down to us complete eighteen tragedies and one satyric drama, "Cyclops," beside numerous fragments.
The works of Euripides are generally regarded as showing the beginning of the decline of Greek tragedy. The idea of Fate hitherto dominant in the plays of his predecessors, tends to be degraded by him into mere chance; the characters lose much of their ideal quality; and even gods and heroes are represented as moved by the petty motives of ordinary humanity. The chorus is often quite detached from the action; the poetry is florid; and the action is frequently tinged with sensationalism. In spite of all this, Euripides remains a great poet; and his picturesqueness and tendencies to what are now called realism and romanticism, while marking his inferiority to the chaste classicism of Sophocles, bring him more easily within the sympathetic interest of the modern reader.
CONTENTS
HIPPOLYTUS
OF EURIPIDES
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
THE GODDESS APHRODITE
THESEUS, King of Athens and Trozên PHAEDRA, daughter of Minos, King of Crete, wife to Theseus HIPPOLYTUS, bastard son of Theseus and the Amazon Hippolyte THE NURSE OF PHAEDRA
A HENCHMAN OF HIPPOLYTUS
THE GODDESS ARTEMIS
AN OLD HUNTSMAN
A CHORUS OF HUNTSMEN
ATTENDANTS ON THE THREE ROYAL PERSONS
A CHORUS OF TROZENIAN WOMEN, WITH THEIR LEADER
THESEUS, King of Athens and Trozên PHAEDRA, daughter of Minos, King of Crete, wife to Theseus HIPPOLYTUS, bastard son of Theseus and the Amazon Hippolyte THE NURSE OF PHAEDRA
A HENCHMAN OF HIPPOLYTUS
THE GODDESS ARTEMIS
AN OLD HUNTSMAN
A CHORUS OF HUNTSMEN
ATTENDANTS ON THE THREE ROYAL PERSONS
A CHORUS OF TROZENIAN WOMEN, WITH THEIR LEADER
The scene is laid in Trozên. The play was first acted when Epameinon was Archon, Olympiad 87, year 4 (B.C. 429). Euripides was first, Iophon second, Ion third.
APHRODITE
Great among men, and not unnamed am I,
The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.
And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far
Red West men dwell, and see the glad day-star,
And worship Me, the pious heart I bless,
And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness.
For that there is, even in a great God's mind,
That hungereth for the praise of human kind.
So runs my word; and soon the very 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 Trozên,
To hold me least of spirits and most mean,
And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,
But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,
He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,
And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,
He and the Maid together, with swift hounds
To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,
To more than mortal friendship consecrate!
I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;
Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day
Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way
Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.
For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore
Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas
Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.
And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;
Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn
With great love, by the working of my will.
And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,
Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,
She built a shrine, and named it Love-at-home :
And the rock held it, but its face alway
Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day
When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,
Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,
Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.
And here that grievous and amazed Queen,
Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,
Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard
Nor dreamed.
But never thus this love shall end!
To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,
And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,
His sire shall slay with curses. Even so
Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main
To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.
And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.
I would not rate this woman's pain so high
As not to pay mine haters in full fee
That vengeance that shall make all well with me.
But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,
Our Prince Hippolytus!—I will go my ways.—
And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng
Glorying Artemis with praise and song!
Little he knows that Hell's gates opened are,
And this his last look on the great Day-star!
[APHRODITE withdraws, unseen by HIPPOLYTUS
and a band of huntsmen, who enter from the left, singing.
They pass the Statue of APHRODITE without notice. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
Follow, O follow me,
Singing on your ways
Her in whose hand are we,
Her whose own flock we be,
The Zeus-Child, the Heavenly;
To Artemis be praise!
HUNTSMAN
Hail to thee, Maiden blest,
Proudest and holiest:
God's Daughter, great in bliss,
Leto-born, Artemis!
Hail to thee, Maiden, far
Fairest of all that are,
Yea, and most high thine home,
Child of the Father's hall;
Hear, O most virginal,
Hear, O most fair of all,
In high God's golden dome.
[ The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of ARTEMIS.
HIPPOLYTUS now advances from them, and approaches the Statue
with a wreath in his hand. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
To thee this 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,
Unlearned of man, and true whate'er befall.
Take therefore from pure hands this coronal,
O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine.
For, sole of living men, this grace is mine,
To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies
Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes.
Oh, keep me to the end in this same road!
[ An OLD HUNTSMAN, who has stood apart from
the rest, here comes up to HIPPOLYTUS.]
HUNTSMAN
My Prince—for "Master" name I none but God—
Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?
HIPPOLYTUS
Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.
HUNTSMAN
Knowest thou one law, that through the world has won?
HIPPOLYTUS
What wouldst thou? And how runs thy law? Say on.
HUNTSMAN
It hates that Pride that speaks not all men fair!
HIPPOLYTUS
And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere.
HUNTSMAN
And good words love, and grace in all men's sight?
HIPPOLYTUS
Aye, and much gain withal, for trouble slight.
HUNTSMAN
How deem'st thou of the Gods? Are they the same?
HIPPOLYTUS
Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.
HUNTSMAN
Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not..
HIPPOLYTUS
Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!
HUNTSMAN
She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!
HIPPOLYTUS
I greet her from afar: my life is clean.
HUNTSMAN
Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for all to scan!
HIPPOLYTUS
Each mind hath its own bent, for God or man.
HUNTSMAN
God grant thee happiness.. and wiser thought!
HIPPOLYTUS
These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not.
HUNTSMAN
What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!
HIPPOLYTUS ( turning from him to the others ).
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 array
The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day
[ He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on
the left. Then to the OLD HUNTSMAN.]
That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!
[HIPPOLYTUS follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in
the Castle. The OLD HUNTSMAN remains]
HUNTSMAN ( approaching the Statue and kneeling )
O Cyprian—for a young man in his pride
I will not follow!—here before thee, meek,
In that one language that a slave may speak,
I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in froth
Of 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!
[ He rises and follows the others into the Castle.]
The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and
left several Trosenian 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 far sad shore of the dead.
Some Women Is this some Spirit, O child of man?
Doth Hecat hold thee perchance, or Pan?
Doth she of the Mountains work her ban,
Or the dread Corybantes bind thee?
Others Nay, is it sin that upon thee lies,
Sin of forgotten sacrifice,
In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?
Who in Limna here can find thee;
For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,
And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.
Other Women Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,
Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,
For secret arms in a silent place,
Far from thy love or chiding?
Others Or hath there landed, amid the 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 yet not?—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 terror sped;
But I, in fear confessèd,
Cried from the dark to Her in heavenly bliss,
The Helper of Pain, the Bow-Maid Artemis:
Whose feet I praise for ever, where they tread
Far off among the blessèd!
THE LEADER
But see, the Queen's grey nurse at the door,
Sad-eyed and sterner, methinks, than of yore
With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither
To the wind and sun?—Ah, fain would I 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 is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for PHAEDRA to lie upon.]
NURSE
O sick and sore are the days of men!
What wouldst thou? What shall I change again
Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;
And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,
By the castle door.
But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;
And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:
So swift to change is the path of thy feet,
And near things hateful, and far things sweet;
So was it before!
Oh, pain were better than tending pain!
For that were single, and this is twain,
With grief of heart and labour of limb.
Yet all man's life is but ailing and dim,
And rest upon earth comes never.
But if any far-off state there be,
Dearer than life to mortality;
The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,
And mist is under and mist above.
And so we are sick of life, and cling
On earth to this nameless and shining thing.
For other life is a fountain sealed,
And the deeps below are unrevealed,
And we drift on legends for ever!
[PHAEDRA during this has been laid on her couch;
she speaks to the handmaids.]
PHAEDRA
Yes; lift me: not my head so low.
There, hold my arms.—Fair arms they seem!—
My poor limbs scarce obey me now!
Take off that hood that weighs my brow,
And let my long hair stream.
NURSE
Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly.
The sickness best will win 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!
And a great meadow blossoming,
Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,
To rest me by the brink!
NURSE
Nay, Child! Shall strangers hear this tone
So wild, and thoughts so fever-flown?
PHAEDRA
Oh, take me to the Mountain! Oh,
Pass 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!
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!
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! 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!
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!
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
The same for ever, stern and true!
For "Thorough" is no word of peace:
'Tis "Naught-too-much" makes trouble cease.
And many a wise man bows thereto.
[ The LEADER OF THE CHORUS here approaches the NURSE.]
LEADER
Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true,
We see her great affliction, but no 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! And how weak!
NURSE
'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.
LEADER
What, is she mad? Or doth she seek to die?
NURSE
I know not. But to death it sure must lead.
LEADER
'Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed.
NURSE
She hides her wound, and vows it is not so.
LEADER
Can he not look into her face and know?
NURSE
Nay, he is on a journey these last days.
LEADER
Canst thou not force her, then? Or think of ways
To trap the secret of the sick heart's pain?
NURSE
Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain?
Yet will I cease not now, and thou shalt tell
If in her grief I serve my mistress well!
[ She goes across to where PHAEDRA lies; and
presently, while speaking, kneels by her.]
Dear daughter mine, all that before was 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? Then
Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?
Speak, that a leech may tend thee.
Silent still?
Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill
This that I counsel, makes me see the wrong:
If well, then yield to me.
Nay, Child, I long
For one kind word, one look!
[PHAEDRA lies motionless. The NURSE rises. ]
Oh, woe is me!
Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,
All as far off as ever from her heart!
She ever scorned me, and now hears no 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!
If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir
To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,
But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen
Hath left a child to bend thy children low,
A bastard royal-hearted—sayst not so?—
Hippolytus...
PHAEDRA
Ah!
[ She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off.]
NURSE
That stings thee?
PHAEDRA
Nurse, most sore
Thou hast hurt me! In God's name, speak that name no more.
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 pause, 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 spell hath made thy spirit dim?
PHAEDRA
He hates me not that slays 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!
NURSE
O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?
PHAEDRA
Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.
NURSE ( suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet )
Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?
PHAEDRA ( rising and trying to move away )
What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my sleeve?
NURSE
Yea, to thy knees; and weep; and let not go!
PHAEDRA
Woe to thee, Woman, if thou learn it, woe!
NURSE
I know no bitterer woe than losing thee.
PHAEDRA
Yet the deed shall honour me.
NURSE
Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim!
PHAEDRA
Why, so I build up honour out of shame!
NURSE
Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand.
PHAEDRA
Go, in God's name!—Nay, leave me; loose my hand!
NURSE
Never, until thou grant me what I pray.
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!
NURSE
What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?
PHAEDRA
And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!
NURSE
Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?
PHAEDRA
And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!
NURSE ( to herself )
I am all lost and feared. What will she say?
PHAEDRA
From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.
NURSE
I come no nearer to thy parable.
PHAEDRA
Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!
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!
NURSE ( starting )
On thee? Love?—Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?
PHAEDRA
What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon...
NURSE
Hippolytus, say'st thou?
PHAEDRA ( again wrapping her face in the veil )
Nay, 'twas thou, not I!
[PHAEDRA sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.
The NURSE starts violently from her and walks up and down. ]
NURSE
O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try
To kill me?—Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;
Women. I will no more of it, this glare
Of hated day, this shining of the sky.
I will fling down my body, and let it lie
Till life be gone!
Women, God rest with you,
My works are over! For the pure and true
Are forced to evil, against their own heart's vow,
And love it!
[ She suddenly sees the Statue of CYPRIS, and
stands 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!
[ 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!
[PHAEDRA during this has risen from the couch and comes forward
collectedly. As she speaks the NURSE gradually rouses herself,
and listens more calmly. ]
PHAEDRA
O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat
Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my 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,
I cast about how best to face mine ill.
And the first thought that came, was to be still
And hide my sickness.—For no trust there is
In man's tongue, that so well admonishes
And counsels and betrays, and waxes fat
With griefs of its own gathering!—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
To quell love was to die—
[ Motion of protest among the Women. ]
—the best, best thought— —Gainsay me not—of all that man can say!
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 suffering;
And I a woman, too, to face the thing,
Despised of all!
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 are 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!
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,
EURIPIDES
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 father's sin.
'Tis written, one way is there, one, to win
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 see
How foul his heart! Be it not so with me!
LEADER OF CHORUS
Ah, God, how sweet is virtue, and how wise,
And honour its due meed in all men's eyes!
NURSE ( who has now risen and recovered herself )
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 fall
And die! And must all lovers die, then? 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!
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!
Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days
Or dwell among the Muses, tell—and praise—
How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;
How maiden Eôs 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!
And must thou, then, turn
And struggle? Sprang there from thy father's blood
Thy little soul all lonely? Or the god
That rules thee, is he other than our gods?
Nay, yield thee to men's ways, and kiss their rods!
How many, deem'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
And more good days on the other, verily,
O child of woman, life is well with thee!
[ She pauses, and then draws nearer to PHAEDRA.]
Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,
Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,
To seek to outpass gods!—Love on and dare:
A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,
Make the pain sleep! 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!
PHAEDRA
Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds
Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word!
Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave
Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save!
NURSE
Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base
Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms!
[PHAEDRA moves indignantly.]
Up and face
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!
But when a whole life one great battle is,
To win or lose—no man can blame me then.
PHAEDRA
Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again
Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!
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!
PHAEDRA
Nay, in God's name,—such wisdom and such sin
Are all about thy lips!—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? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know.
PHAEDRA
Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so.
NURSE
Thou wouldst dread everything!—What dost thou dread?
PHAEDRA
Least to his ear some word be whispered.
NURSE
Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!
—Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,
Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,
Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!
[ The NURSE, having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the
Statue of CYPRIS, 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
Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,
Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe
that pliest
Deep in our hearts joy like an edgèd spear;
Come not to me with Evil haunting near,
Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear
Wing's music as thou fliest!
There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire,
Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear,
As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire,
Erôs, Child of the Highest!
In vain, in vain, by old Alpheüs' 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!
Great among men, and not unnamed am I,
The Cyprian, in God's inmost halls on high.
And wheresoe'er from Pontus to the far
Red West men dwell, and see the glad day-star,
And worship Me, the pious heart I bless,
And wreck that life that lives in stubbornness.
For that there is, even in a great God's mind,
That hungereth for the praise of human kind.
So runs my word; and soon the very 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 Trozên,
To hold me least of spirits and most mean,
And spurns my spell and seeks no woman's kiss,
But great Apollo's sister, Artemis,
He holds of all most high, gives love and praise,
And through the wild dark woods for ever strays,
He and the Maid together, with swift hounds
To slay all angry beasts from out these bounds,
To more than mortal friendship consecrate!
I grudge it not. No grudge know I, nor hate;
Yet, seeing he hath offended, I this day
Shall smite Hippolytus. Long since my way
Was opened, nor needs now much labour more.
For once from Pittheus' castle to the shore
Of Athens came Hippolytus over-seas
Seeking the vision of the Mysteries.
And Phaedra there, his father's Queen high-born;
Saw him, and as she saw, her heart was torn
With great love, by the working of my will.
And for his sake, long since, on Pallas' hill,
Deep in the rock, that Love no more might roam,
She built a shrine, and named it Love-at-home :
And the rock held it, but its face alway
Seeks Trozên o'er the seas. Then came the day
When Theseus, for the blood of kinsmen shed,
Spake doom of exile on himself, and fled,
Phaedra beside him, even to this Trozên.
And here that grievous and amazed Queen,
Wounded and wondering, with ne'er a word,
Wastes slowly; and her secret none hath heard
Nor dreamed.
But never thus this love shall end!
To Theseus' ear some whisper will I send,
And all be bare! And that proud Prince, my foe,
His sire shall slay with curses. Even so
Endeth that boon the great Lord of the Main
To Theseus gave, the Three Prayers not in vain.
And she, not in dishonour, yet shall die.
I would not rate this woman's pain so high
As not to pay mine haters in full fee
That vengeance that shall make all well with me.
But soft, here comes he, striding from the chase,
Our Prince Hippolytus!—I will go my ways.—
And hunters at his heels: and a loud throng
Glorying Artemis with praise and song!
Little he knows that Hell's gates opened are,
And this his last look on the great Day-star!
[APHRODITE withdraws, unseen by HIPPOLYTUS
and a band of huntsmen, who enter from the left, singing.
They pass the Statue of APHRODITE without notice. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
Follow, O follow me,
Singing on your ways
Her in whose hand are we,
Her whose own flock we be,
The Zeus-Child, the Heavenly;
To Artemis be praise!
HUNTSMAN
Hail to thee, Maiden blest,
Proudest and holiest:
God's Daughter, great in bliss,
Leto-born, Artemis!
Hail to thee, Maiden, far
Fairest of all that are,
Yea, and most high thine home,
Child of the Father's hall;
Hear, O most virginal,
Hear, O most fair of all,
In high God's golden dome.
[ The huntsmen have gathered about the altar of ARTEMIS.
HIPPOLYTUS now advances from them, and approaches the Statue
with a wreath in his hand. ]
HIPPOLYTUS
To thee this 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,
Unlearned of man, and true whate'er befall.
Take therefore from pure hands this coronal,
O mistress loved, thy golden hair to twine.
For, sole of living men, this grace is mine,
To dwell with thee, and speak, and hear replies
Of voice divine, though none may see thine eyes.
Oh, keep me to the end in this same road!
[ An OLD HUNTSMAN, who has stood apart from
the rest, here comes up to HIPPOLYTUS.]
HUNTSMAN
My Prince—for "Master" name I none but God—
Gave I good counsel, wouldst thou welcome it?
HIPPOLYTUS
Right gladly, friend; else were I poor of wit.
HUNTSMAN
Knowest thou one law, that through the world has won?
HIPPOLYTUS
What wouldst thou? And how runs thy law? Say on.
HUNTSMAN
It hates that Pride that speaks not all men fair!
HIPPOLYTUS
And rightly. Pride breeds hatred everywhere.
HUNTSMAN
And good words love, and grace in all men's sight?
HIPPOLYTUS
Aye, and much gain withal, for trouble slight.
HUNTSMAN
How deem'st thou of the Gods? Are they the same?
HIPPOLYTUS
Surely: we are but fashioned on their frame.
HUNTSMAN
Why then wilt thou be proud, and worship not..
HIPPOLYTUS
Whom? If the name be speakable, speak out!
HUNTSMAN
She stands here at thy gate: the Cyprian Queen!
HIPPOLYTUS
I greet her from afar: my life is clean.
HUNTSMAN
Clean? Nay, proud, proud; a mark for all to scan!
HIPPOLYTUS
Each mind hath its own bent, for God or man.
HUNTSMAN
God grant thee happiness.. and wiser thought!
HIPPOLYTUS
These Spirits that reign in darkness like me not.
HUNTSMAN
What the Gods ask, O Son, that man must pay!
HIPPOLYTUS ( turning from him to the others ).
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 array
The chariot dight. I drive them forth to-day
[ He pauses, and makes a slight gesture of reverence to the Statue on
the left. Then to the OLD HUNTSMAN.]
That for thy Cyprian, friend, and nought beside!
[HIPPOLYTUS follows the huntsmen, who stream by the central door in
the Castle. The OLD HUNTSMAN remains]
HUNTSMAN ( approaching the Statue and kneeling )
O Cyprian—for a young man in his pride
I will not follow!—here before thee, meek,
In that one language that a slave may speak,
I pray thee; Oh, if some wild heart in froth
Of 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!
[ He rises and follows the others into the Castle.]
The Orchestra is empty for a moment, then there enter from right and
left several Trosenian 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 far sad shore of the dead.
Some Women Is this some Spirit, O child of man?
Doth Hecat hold thee perchance, or Pan?
Doth she of the Mountains work her ban,
Or the dread Corybantes bind thee?
Others Nay, is it sin that upon thee lies,
Sin of forgotten sacrifice,
In thine own Dictynna's sea-wild eyes?
Who in Limna here can find thee;
For the Deep's dry floor is her easy way,
And she moves in the salt wet whirl of the spray.
Other Women Or doth the Lord of Erechtheus' race,
Thy Theseus, watch for a fairer face,
For secret arms in a silent place,
Far from thy love or chiding?
Others Or hath there landed, amid the 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 yet not?—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 terror sped;
But I, in fear confessèd,
Cried from the dark to Her in heavenly bliss,
The Helper of Pain, the Bow-Maid Artemis:
Whose feet I praise for ever, where they tread
Far off among the blessèd!
THE LEADER
But see, the Queen's grey nurse at the door,
Sad-eyed and sterner, methinks, than of yore
With the Queen. Doth she lead her hither
To the wind and sun?—Ah, fain would I 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 is supported by two handmaids. They make ready a couch for PHAEDRA to lie upon.]
NURSE
O sick and sore are the days of men!
What wouldst thou? What shall I change again
Here is the Sun for thee; here is the sky;
And thy weary pillows wind-swept lie,
By the castle door.
But the cloud of thy brow is dark, I ween;
And soon thou wilt back to thy bower within:
So swift to change is the path of thy feet,
And near things hateful, and far things sweet;
So was it before!
Oh, pain were better than tending pain!
For that were single, and this is twain,
With grief of heart and labour of limb.
Yet all man's life is but ailing and dim,
And rest upon earth comes never.
But if any far-off state there be,
Dearer than life to mortality;
The hand of the Dark hath hold thereof,
And mist is under and mist above.
And so we are sick of life, and cling
On earth to this nameless and shining thing.
For other life is a fountain sealed,
And the deeps below are unrevealed,
And we drift on legends for ever!
[PHAEDRA during this has been laid on her couch;
she speaks to the handmaids.]
PHAEDRA
Yes; lift me: not my head so low.
There, hold my arms.—Fair arms they seem!—
My poor limbs scarce obey me now!
Take off that hood that weighs my brow,
And let my long hair stream.
NURSE
Nay, toss not, Child, so feveredly.
The sickness best will win 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!
And a great meadow blossoming,
Long-grassed, and poplars in a ring,
To rest me by the brink!
NURSE
Nay, Child! Shall strangers hear this tone
So wild, and thoughts so fever-flown?
PHAEDRA
Oh, take me to the Mountain! Oh,
Pass 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!
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!
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! 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!
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!
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
The same for ever, stern and true!
For "Thorough" is no word of peace:
'Tis "Naught-too-much" makes trouble cease.
And many a wise man bows thereto.
[ The LEADER OF THE CHORUS here approaches the NURSE.]
LEADER
Nurse of our Queen, thou watcher old and true,
We see her great affliction, but no 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! And how weak!
NURSE
'Tis the third day she hath fasted utterly.
LEADER
What, is she mad? Or doth she seek to die?
NURSE
I know not. But to death it sure must lead.
LEADER
'Tis strange that Theseus takes hereof no heed.
NURSE
She hides her wound, and vows it is not so.
LEADER
Can he not look into her face and know?
NURSE
Nay, he is on a journey these last days.
LEADER
Canst thou not force her, then? Or think of ways
To trap the secret of the sick heart's pain?
NURSE
Have I not tried all ways, and all in vain?
Yet will I cease not now, and thou shalt tell
If in her grief I serve my mistress well!
[ She goes across to where PHAEDRA lies; and
presently, while speaking, kneels by her.]
Dear daughter mine, all that before was 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? Then
Is it a sickness meet for aid of men?
Speak, that a leech may tend thee.
Silent still?
Nay, Child, what profits silence? If 'tis ill
This that I counsel, makes me see the wrong:
If well, then yield to me.
Nay, Child, I long
For one kind word, one look!
[PHAEDRA lies motionless. The NURSE rises. ]
Oh, woe is me!
Women, we labour here all fruitlessly,
All as far off as ever from her heart!
She ever scorned me, and now hears no 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!
If thou die now, shall child of thine be heir
To Theseus' castle? Nay, not thine, I ween,
But hers! That barbèd Amazonian Queen
Hath left a child to bend thy children low,
A bastard royal-hearted—sayst not so?—
Hippolytus...
PHAEDRA
Ah!
[ She starts up, sitting, and throws the veil off.]
NURSE
That stings thee?
PHAEDRA
Nurse, most sore
Thou hast hurt me! In God's name, speak that name no more.
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 pause, 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 spell hath made thy spirit dim?
PHAEDRA
He hates me not that slays 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!
NURSE
O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?
PHAEDRA
Nay, leave me to my wrong. I wrong not thee.
NURSE ( suddenly throwing herself in supplication at PHAEDRA'S feet )
Not wrong me, whom thou wouldst all desolate leave?
PHAEDRA ( rising and trying to move away )
What wouldst thou? Force me? Clinging to my sleeve?
NURSE
Yea, to thy knees; and weep; and let not go!
PHAEDRA
Woe to thee, Woman, if thou learn it, woe!
NURSE
I know no bitterer woe than losing thee.
PHAEDRA
Yet the deed shall honour me.
NURSE
Why hide what honours thee? 'Tis all I claim!
PHAEDRA
Why, so I build up honour out of shame!
NURSE
Then speak, and higher still thy fame shall stand.
PHAEDRA
Go, in God's name!—Nay, leave me; loose my hand!
NURSE
Never, until thou grant me what I pray.
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!
NURSE
What mean'st thou, Child? The Wild Bull of the Tide?
PHAEDRA
And thou, sad sister, Dionysus' bride!
NURSE
Child! wouldst thou shame the house where thou wast born?
PHAEDRA
And I the third, sinking most all-forlorn!
NURSE ( to herself )
I am all lost and feared. What will she say?
PHAEDRA
From there my grief comes, not from yesterday.
NURSE
I come no nearer to thy parable.
PHAEDRA
Oh, would that thou could'st tell what I must tell!
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!
NURSE ( starting )
On thee? Love?—Oh, what say'st thou? What man's son?
PHAEDRA
What man's? There was a Queen, an Amazon...
NURSE
Hippolytus, say'st thou?
PHAEDRA ( again wrapping her face in the veil )
Nay, 'twas thou, not I!
[PHAEDRA sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.
The NURSE starts violently from her and walks up and down. ]
NURSE
O God! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try
To kill me?—Oh, 'tis more than I can bear;
Women. I will no more of it, this glare
Of hated day, this shining of the sky.
I will fling down my body, and let it lie
Till life be gone!
Women, God rest with you,
My works are over! For the pure and true
Are forced to evil, against their own heart's vow,
And love it!
[ She suddenly sees the Statue of CYPRIS, and
stands 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!
[ 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!
[PHAEDRA during this has risen from the couch and comes forward
collectedly. As she speaks the NURSE gradually rouses herself,
and listens more calmly. ]
PHAEDRA
O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat
Of Pelops' land, gazing towards my 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,
I cast about how best to face mine ill.
And the first thought that came, was to be still
And hide my sickness.—For no trust there is
In man's tongue, that so well admonishes
And counsels and betrays, and waxes fat
With griefs of its own gathering!—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
To quell love was to die—
[ Motion of protest among the Women. ]
—the best, best thought— —Gainsay me not—of all that man can say!
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 suffering;
And I a woman, too, to face the thing,
Despised of all!
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 are 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!
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,
EURIPIDES
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 father's sin.
'Tis written, one way is there, one, to win
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 see
How foul his heart! Be it not so with me!
LEADER OF CHORUS
Ah, God, how sweet is virtue, and how wise,
And honour its due meed in all men's eyes!
NURSE ( who has now risen and recovered herself )
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 fall
And die! And must all lovers die, then? 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!
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!
Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days
Or dwell among the Muses, tell—and praise—
How Zeus himself once yearned for Semelê;
How maiden Eôs 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!
And must thou, then, turn
And struggle? Sprang there from thy father's blood
Thy little soul all lonely? Or the god
That rules thee, is he other than our gods?
Nay, yield thee to men's ways, and kiss their rods!
How many, deem'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
And more good days on the other, verily,
O child of woman, life is well with thee!
[ She pauses, and then draws nearer to PHAEDRA.]
Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind,
Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind,
To seek to outpass gods!—Love on and dare:
A god hath willed it! And, since pain is there,
Make the pain sleep! 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!
PHAEDRA
Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds
Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word!
Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave
Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save!
NURSE
Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base
Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms!
[PHAEDRA moves indignantly.]
Up and face
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!
But when a whole life one great battle is,
To win or lose—no man can blame me then.
PHAEDRA
Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again
Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!
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!
PHAEDRA
Nay, in God's name,—such wisdom and such sin
Are all about thy lips!—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? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know.
PHAEDRA
Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so.
NURSE
Thou wouldst dread everything!—What dost thou dread?
PHAEDRA
Least to his ear some word be whispered.
NURSE
Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!
—Only do thou, O Cyprian of the Sea,
Be with me! And mine own heart, come what may,
Shall know what ear to seek, what word to say!
[ The NURSE, having spoken these last words in prayer apart to the
Statue of CYPRIS, 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
Erôs, Erôs, who blindest, tear by tear,
Men's eyes with hunger; thou swift Foe
that pliest
Deep in our hearts joy like an edgèd spear;
Come not to me with Evil haunting near,
Wrath on the wind, nor jarring of the clear
Wing's music as thou fliest!
There is no shaft that burneth, not in fire,
Not in wild stars, far off and flinging fear,
As in thine hands the shaft of All Desire,
Erôs, Child of the Highest!
In vain, in vain, by old Alpheüs' 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!
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!
O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall,
That Dirce's wells run under,
Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall!
Ye saw the heavens 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 door
and is listening.]
PHAEDRA
Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.
LEADER
How? In the house?—Phaedra, what fear is this?
PHAEDRA
Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!
LEADER
I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.
PHAEDRA
Oh, misery!
O God, that such a thing should fall on me!
LEADER
What sound, what word,
O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start
Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard
Hath leapt upon thine heart?
PHAEDRA
I am undone!—Bend to the door and hark,
Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!
LEADER
Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark
The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say
What thing hath come to thee?
PHAEDRA ( calmly )
Why, what thing should it be?
The son of that proud Amazon speaks again
In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!
LEADER
I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear.
For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks
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! Betrayed!
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!
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?
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 HIPPOLYTUS 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!
NURSE
Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess...
HIPPOLYTUS
I have heard horrors! 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!
NURSE
Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!
HIPPOLYTUS
Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?
NURSE
It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!
HIPPOLYTUS
Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.
NURSE
Thine oath, thine oath! 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?
HIPPOLYTUS
I own no kindred with the spawn of sin!
[ He flings her from him.]
NURSE
Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare!
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!
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! 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
About their rooms, that they might speak with none,
Nor ever hear one answering human tone!
But now dark women in still chambers lay
Plans that creep out into light of day
On handmaids' lips—[ Turning to the NURSE.]
As thine accursèd 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!
And couldst thou dream that I...? I feel impure
Still at the very hearing! 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! 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 shall greet him face to face!
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!
[ He goes off in fury 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?
And this thing, O my God,
O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert!
I 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!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast
Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!
[ At these words PHAEDRA suddenly remembers the NURSE, who is
cowering silently where HIPPOLYTUS had thrown her from him.
She turns upon her.]
PHAEDRA
O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart
To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?
Am I enough trod down?
May Zeus, my sire,
Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!
Said I not—Knew I not thine heart?—to name
To no one soul this that is now my shame?
And thou couldst not be silent! So no more
I 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;
Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin!
Cursèd be thou, and whoso else leaps in
To bring bad aid to friends that want it not.
[ The NURSE has raised herself, and faces PHAEDRA,
downcast but calm.]
NURSE
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.
So fares it with us all in the world's sight.
PHAEDRA
First stab me to the heart, then humour me
With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!
NURSE
We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,
There is a way to save thee, even so!
PHAEDRA
A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod
Already, foul and false and loathed of god!
Begone out of my sight; and ponder how
Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.
[ She turns from the NURSE, who creeps abashed away into the Castle.]
Only do ye, high Daughters of Trozên,
Let all ye hear be as it had not been;
Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer.
LEADER
By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,
No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!
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!
LEADER
What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?
PHAEDRA ( musing )
Die; but how die?
LEADER
Let not such wild words fall!
PHAEDRA ( turning upon her )
Give thou not such light counsel! 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.
Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!
He shall not stand so proud where I have lain
Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share
The life I live in, and learn mercy there!
[ She goes 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!
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 Phaëthon'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 guardeth, 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.
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!
O Mouth of Dirce, O god-built wall,
That Dirce's wells run under,
Ye know the Cyprian's fleet footfall!
Ye saw the heavens 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 door
and is listening.]
PHAEDRA
Silence ye Women! Something is amiss.
LEADER
How? In the house?—Phaedra, what fear is this?
PHAEDRA
Let me but listen! There are voices. Hark!
LEADER
I hold my peace: yet is thy presage dark.
PHAEDRA
Oh, misery!
O God, that such a thing should fall on me!
LEADER
What sound, what word,
O Women, Friend, makes that sharp terror start
Out at thy lips? What ominous cry half-heard
Hath leapt upon thine heart?
PHAEDRA
I am undone!—Bend to the door and hark,
Hark what a tone sounds there, and sinks away!
LEADER
Thou art beside the bars. 'Tis thine to mark
The castle's floating message. Say, Oh, say
What thing hath come to thee?
PHAEDRA ( calmly )
Why, what thing should it be?
The son of that proud Amazon speaks again
In bitter wrath: speaks to my handmaiden!
LEADER
I hear a noise of voices, nothing clear.
For thee the din hath words, as through barred locks
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! Betrayed!
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!
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?
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 HIPPOLYTUS 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!
NURSE
Hush O my Prince, lest others mark, and guess...
HIPPOLYTUS
I have heard horrors! 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!
NURSE
Oh, by thy knees, be silent or I die!
HIPPOLYTUS
Why, when thy speech was all so guiltless? Why?
NURSE
It is not meet, fair Son, for every ear!
HIPPOLYTUS
Good words can bravely forth, and have no fear.
NURSE
Thine oath, thine oath! 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?
HIPPOLYTUS
I own no kindred with the spawn of sin!
[ He flings her from him.]
NURSE
Nay, spare me! Man was born to err; oh, spare!
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!
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! 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
About their rooms, that they might speak with none,
Nor ever hear one answering human tone!
But now dark women in still chambers lay
Plans that creep out into light of day
On handmaids' lips—[ Turning to the NURSE.]
As thine accursèd 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!
And couldst thou dream that I...? I feel impure
Still at the very hearing! 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! 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 shall greet him face to face!
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!
[ He goes off in fury 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?
And this thing, O my God,
O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert!
I 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!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS
Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the boast
Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost!
[ At these words PHAEDRA suddenly remembers the NURSE, who is
cowering silently where HIPPOLYTUS had thrown her from him.
She turns upon her.]
PHAEDRA
O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart
To them that loved thee! Hast thou played thy part?
Am I enough trod down?
May Zeus, my sire,
Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire!
Said I not—Knew I not thine heart?—to name
To no one soul this that is now my shame?
And thou couldst not be silent! So no more
I 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;
Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin!
Cursèd be thou, and whoso else leaps in
To bring bad aid to friends that want it not.
[ The NURSE has raised herself, and faces PHAEDRA,
downcast but calm.]
NURSE
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.
So fares it with us all in the world's sight.
PHAEDRA
First stab me to the heart, then humour me
With words! 'Tis fair; 'tis all as it should be!
NURSE
We talk too long, Child. I did ill; but, oh,
There is a way to save thee, even so!
PHAEDRA
A way? No more ways! One way hast thou trod
Already, foul and false and loathed of god!
Begone out of my sight; and ponder how
Thine own life stands! I need no helpers now.
[ She turns from the NURSE, who creeps abashed away into the Castle.]
Only do ye, high Daughters of Trozên,
Let all ye hear be as it had not been;
Know naught, and speak of naught! 'Tis my last prayer.
LEADER
By God's pure daughter, Artemis, I swear,
No word will I of these thy griefs reveal!
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!
LEADER
What wilt thou? Some dire deed beyond recall?
PHAEDRA ( musing )
Die; but how die?
LEADER
Let not such wild words fall!
PHAEDRA ( turning upon her )
Give thou not such light counsel! 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.
Yet, dying, shall I die another's bane!
He shall not stand so proud where I have lain
Bent in the dust! Oh, he shall stoop to share
The life I live in, and learn mercy there!
[ She goes 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!
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 Phaëthon'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 guardeth, 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.
The Voice of the is heard from within, crying,
at first inarticulately, then clearly
The Women, intent upon the voices from the Castle, have not noticed
the approach of He enters from the left; his 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
The confusion and horror of the Women's faces gradually affects him.
A dirge-cry comes from the Castle
The Women hesitate; then the Leader comes forward
stays for a moment silent, and puts his hand on his brow.
He notices the wreath
The great central door of the Castle is thrown open wide, and the body
of is seen lying on a bier, surrounded by a group of
Handmaids, wailing
A throng of Men and Women has gradually collected
He turns suddenly on the Attendants
He bends over then, as no one speaks looks fiercely up
There is no answer. He bends again over
has read the tablet and breaks out in uncontrollable emotion
He raises his hand, to make proclamation to all present
The people gather expectantly about him
Murmurs of amazement and horror; THESEUS, apparently calm,
raises both arms to heaven.
stands silent in fierce gloom. comes in from the right.
The murmurs in the crowd, the silent gloom of his Father,
and the horror of the Chorus-women gradually work on
and bewilder him. He catches sight of the bier.
Murmurs in the crowd.
remains silent. The murmurs increase.
to himself
as before
misunderstanding him; then guessing at something
of the truth
Murmurs from the crowd
falls back with a cry and covers his face with his robe
Murmurs again in the crowd
He sees from the demeanor of and of the crowd that his words
are not winning them, but rather making them bitterer than before.
It comes to his lips to speak the whole truth
He waits a moment; but sees that his Father is unmoved.
The truth again comes to his lips
in a sudden blaze of rage
The thralls still hesitate in spite of his fury.
comes close to him and kneels.
rises, makes a sign of submission, and slowly moves away. as soon as he sees him going, turns rapidly and enters the
Castle. The door is closed again. has stopped for a
moment before the Statue of and, as departs,
breaks out in prayer.
goes away to the right, followed by 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
Men
Women
Men
Women
A Maiden
enters in haste
comes out from the Castle
as though unmoved
The departs to fetch sits waiting in
stern gloom, while the sing. At the close of their song a
Divine Figure is seen approaching on a cloud in the air and the voice
of speaks
The cloud has become stationary in the air.
at first bewildered, then dumfounded,
now utters a deep groan.
A throng is seen approaching; enters,
supported by his attendants.
gently
The cloud slowly rises and floats away
supporting him in his arms
bends down and embraces him passionately
covers his face with a mantle and rises.
They move into the Castle, carrying the body of
THE BACCHAE
OF EURIPIDES
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
son of Zeus and of the Theban princess Semelêformerly King of Thebes, father of Semelê
King of Thebes, grandson of Cadmus
daughter of Cadmus, mother of Pentheus
an aged Theban prophet
following Dionysus from the East
"The play was first produced after the death of Euripides by his son who bore the same name, together with the Iphigenia in Aulis and the Alcmaeon, probably in the year 405 B.C."
The background represents the front of the Castle of PENTHEUS, King of Thebes. At one side is visible the sacred Tomb of Semelê, a little enclosure overgrown with wild vines, with a cleft in the rocky floor of it from which there issues at times steam or smoke. The God DIONYSUS is discovered alone.
As he departs, there comes stealing in from the left a band of fifteen
Eastern Women, the light of the sunrise streaming upon their long white
robes and ivy-bound hair. They wear fawn-skins over the robes, and
carry some of them timbrels, some pipes and other instruments. Many
bear the thyrsus, or sacred Wand, made of reed ringed with ivy. They
enter stealthily till they see that the place is empty, and then begin
their mystic song of worship.
A Maiden
Another
All the Maidens
Some Maidens
Others
A Maiden
Another Maiden
All the Maidens
Enter He is an old man and blind, leaning upon a staff
and moving with slow stateliness, though wearing the Ivy and the
Bacchic fawn-skin
Enter from the Castle. He is even older than and wears the same attire
At the first movement of worship his manner begins to change;
a mysterious strength and exaltation enter into him.
after looking away toward the Mountain
The two stand back, partially concealed, while there enters in hot
haste followed by a bodyguard. He is speaking to the in command.
the words are not heard by
Drawing nearer to
He makes as if to set the wreath on head
The guards set forth in two bodies goes into the Castle.
The two Old Men go off towards the Mountain.
Some Maidens
Others
Divers Maidens
As the Chorus ceases, a party of the guards return, leading in the
midst of them bound. The in command stands forth,
as hearing the tramp of feet, comes out from the Castle.
The guards loose the arms of studies him for a
while in silence then speaks jeeringly. remains gentle
and unafraid.
DIONYSUS is silent.
brutally
He beckons to the soldiers, who approach
The soldiers cut off the tress
takes the staff
The soldiers begin to bind him
The soldiers obey
mocking
without his wand, his hair shorn, and his arms tightly
bound, is led off by the guards to his dungeon. returns
into the Palace.
Some Maidens
All
Other Maidens
All
A Maiden
An Earthquake suddenly shakes the pillars of the Castle.
Fire leaps upon the Tomb of Semelê.
The Maidens cast themselves upon the ground, their eyes earthward. alone and unbound, enters from the Castle.
Enter in fury
He advances furiously upon him.
to his guard
Enter suddenly and in haste a Messenger from the Mountain.
has started as though to seek his army at the gate.
turning from him
after regarding him fixedly, speaks with resignation
He fixes his eyes upon again, while the armourers bring out
his armour; then speaks in a tone of command.
who during the rest of this scene, with a few exceptions,
simply speaks the thoughts that puts into him, losing power
over his own mind
somewhat bewildered at what he has said
after a struggle with himself
again doubting
after hesitating once more and waiting
Exit into the Castle.
Exit following PENTHEUS into Castle.
Some Maidens
Others
Re-enter from the Castle
Enter clad like a Bacchanal, and strangely excited,
a spirit of Bacchic madness overshadowing him.
tending him
while tending him
not listening to him
more wildly
with a laugh
Exit towards the Mountain.
Exit following
Some Maidens
A Bacchanal
All the Chorus
Other Maidens
A Bacchanal
All the Chorus
Enter hastily a from the Mountain, pale and distraught.
The departs into the Castle
Some Maidens
A Bacchanal
Others
Enter from the Mountain mad, and to all seeming wondrously
happy, bearing the head of in her hand. The
stand horror-struck at the sight; the also horror-struck,
strives to accept it and rejoice in it as the God's deed
very calmly and peacefully
The tries to speak, but is not able; begins gently stroking the head
lifting up the head, more excitedly
brooding, with horror
She goes through the crowd towards the Castle, showing the head and
looking for a place to hang it. Enter from the Mountain with
attendants, bearing the body of on a bier
turning from the Palace and seeing him
after hesitation, resolving himself
troubled
beginning to tremble, and not looking at what she carries
earnestly
turning from him
leading her to the bier
As there is no answer, she lifts the veil of the bier, and sees.
Kneeling by the body.
copies of "The Bacchae" are derived. It evidently contained a speech of
Agâvê (followed presumably by some words of the Chorus), and an appearance
of upon a cloud. He must have pronounced judgment upon the
Thebans in general, and especially upon the daughters of have
justified his own action, and declared his determination to establish his
godhead. Where the MS begins again, we find him addressing
turning from him almost with disdain
with her group of attendants goes out on the side away from
the Mountain. rises upon the Cloud and disappears.
Exeunt
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