by Euripides
CHOR. O aged woman, faithful nurse of the queen Phædra, we see indeed the wretched state of this lady, but it is not clear what her disease is: but we would wish to inquire and hear from you.
NUR. I know not by my inquiries; for she is not willing to speak.
CHOR. Nor what is the origin of these pangs?
NUR. You come to the same result; for she is silent with regard to all these things.
CHOR. How feeble she is, and wasted away as to her body!
NUR. How could it be otherwise, seeing that she has abstained from food these three days?
CHOR. From the violence of her calamity is it, or does she endeavor to die?
NUR. To die; but she fasts to the dissolution of her life.
CHOR. An extraordinary thing you have been telling me, if this conduct meets the approbation of her husband.
NUR. [He nothing knows,] for she conceals this calamity, and denies that she is ill.
CHOR. But does he not guess it, looking into her face?
NUR. [How should he?] for he is out of this country.
CHOR. But do you not urge it as a matter of necessity, when you endeavor to ascertain her disease and the wandering of her senses?
NUR. I have tried every thing, and have made no further advances. I will not however abate even now from my zeal, so that you being present may bear witness with me, how I behave to my mistress when in calamity — Come, dear child, let us both forget our former conversations; and be both thou more mild, having smoothed that contracted brow, and altered the bent of your design; and I giving up that wherein I did not do right to follow thee, will have recourse to other better words. And if indeed you are ill with any of those maladies that are not to be mentioned, these women here can allay the disease: but if it may be related to men, tell it, that the thing may be mentioned to physicians. — Well! why art thou silent? It doth not behoove thee to be silent, my child, but either shouldst thou convict me, if aught I say amiss, or yield to words well spoken. — Say something — look hither — O wretch that I am! Ladies, in vain do we undergo these toils, while we are as far off from our purpose as before: for neither then was she softened by our words, nor now does she give heed to us. Still however know (now then be more obstinate than the sea) that, if thou shalt die, thou wilt betray thy children, who will have no share in their paternal mansion. I swear by the warlike queen the Amazon, who brought forth a lord over thy children, base-born yet of noble sentiments, thou knowest him well, Hippolytus.
PHÆ. Ah me!
NUR. This touches thee.
PHÆ. You have destroyed me, nurse, and by the Gods I entreat thee henceforth to be silent with respect to this man.
NUR. Do you see? you judge well indeed, but judging well you are not willing both to assist your children and to save your own life.
PHÆ. I love my children; but I am wintering in the storm of another misfortune.
NUR. You have your hands, my child, pure from blood.
PHÆ. My hands are pure, but my mind has some pollution.
NUR. What! from some calamity brought on you by any of your enemies?
PHÆ. A friend destroys me against my will, himself unwilling.
NUR. Has Theseus sinned any sin against thee?
PHÆ. Would that I never be discovered to have injured him.
NUR. What then this dreadful thing that impels thee to die?
PHÆ. Suffer me to err, for against thee I err not.
NUR. Not willingly [dost thou do so,] but ’tis through thee that I shall perish.
PHÆ. What are you doing? you oppress me, hanging on me with your hand.
NUR. And never will I let go these knees.
PHÆ. Ills to thyself wilt thou hear, O wretched woman, if thou shalt hear these ills.
NUR. [Still will I cling:] for what greater evil can befall me than to lose thee?
PHÆ. You will be undone. The thing however brings honor to me.
NUR. And dost thou then hide what is useful, when I beseech thee?
PHÆ. Yes, for from base things we devise things noble.
NUR. Wilt not thou, then, appear more noble by telling it?
PHÆ. Depart, by the Gods, and let go my hand!
NUR. No in sooth, since thou givest me not the boon that were right.
PHÆ. I will give it; for I have respect unto the reverence of thy hand.
NUR. Now will I be silent: for hence is it yours to speak.
PHÆ. O wretched mother, what a love didst thou love!
NUR. That which she had for the bull, my child, or what is this thou meanest?
PHÆ. Thou, too, O wretched sister, wife of Bacchus!
NUR. Child, what ails thee? thou speakest ill against thy relations.
PHÆ. And I the third, how unhappily I perish!
NUR. I am struck dumb with amazement. Whither will thy speech tend?
PHÆ. To that point, whence we have not now lately become unfortunate.
NUR. I know not a whit further of the things I wish to hear.
PHÆ. Alas! would thou couldst speak the things which I must speak.
NUR. I am no prophetess so as to know clearly things hidden.
PHÆ. What is that thing, which they do call men’s loving!
NUR. The same, my child, a most delightful thing, and painful withal.
PHÆ. One of the two feelings I must perceive.
NUR. What say’st? Thou lovest, my child? What man!
PHÆ. Him whoever he is, that is born of the Amazon.
NUR. Hippolytus dost thou say?
PHÆ. From thyself, not me, you hear — this name.
NUR. Ah me! what wilt thou go on to say? my child, how hast thou destroyed me! Ladies, this is not to be borne; I will not endure to live, hateful is the day, hateful the light I behold. I will hurl myself down, I will rid me of this body: I will remove from life to death — farewell — I no longer am. For the chaste are in love with what is evil, not willingly indeed, yet still [they love.] Venus then is no deity, but if there be aught mightier than deity, that is she, who hath destroyed both this my mistress, and me, and the whole house.
CHOR. Thou didst hear, O thou didst hear the queen lamenting her wretched sufferings that should not be heard. Dear lady, may I perish before I come to thy state of mind! Alas me! alas! alas! O hapless for these pangs! O the woes that attend on mortals! Thou art undone, thou hast disclosed thy evils to the light. What time is this that has eternally awaited thee? Some new misfortune will happen to the house. And no longer is it obscure where the fortune of Venus sets, O wretched Cretan daughter.
PHÆ. Women of Trœzene, who inhabit this extreme frontier of the land of Pelops. Often at other times in the long season of night have I thought in what manner the life of mortals is depraved. And to me they seem to do ill, not from the nature of their minds, for many have good thoughts, but thus must we view these things. What things are good we understand and know, but practice not; some from idleness, and others preferring some other pleasures to what is right: for there are many pleasures in life-long prates, and indolence, a pleasing ill, and shame; but there are two, the one indeed not base, but the other the weight that overthrows houses, but if the occasion on which each is used, were clear, the two things would not have the same letters. Knowing them as I did these things beforehand, by no drug did I think I should so far destroy these sentiments, as to fall into an opposite way of thinking. But I will also tell you the course of my determinations. After that love had wounded me, I considered how best I might endure it. I began therefore from this time to be silent, and to conceal this disease. For no confidence can be placed in the tongue, which knows to advise the thoughts of other men, but itself from itself has very many evils. But in the second place, I meditated to bear well my madness conquering it by my chastity. But in the third place, since by these means I was not able to subdue Venus, it appeared to me best to die: no one will gainsay this resolution. For may it be my lot, neither to be concealed where I do noble deeds, nor to have many witnesses,
where I act basely. Besides this I knew I was a woman — a thing hated by all. O may she most miserably perish who first began to pollute the marriage-bed with other men! From noble families first arose this evil among women: for when base things appear right to those who are accounted good, surely they will appear so to the bad. I hate moreover those women who are chaste in their language indeed, but secretly have in them no good deeds of boldness: who, how, I pray, O Venus my revered mistress, look they on the faces of their husbands, nor dread the darkness that aided their deeds, and the ceilings of the house, lest they should some time or other utter a voice? For this bare idea kills me, friends, lest I should ever be discovered to have disgraced my husband, or my children, whom I brought forth; but free, happy in liberty of speech may they inhabit the city of illustrious Athens, in their mother glorious! For it enslaves a man, though he be valiant-hearted, when he is conscious of his mother’s or his father’s misdeeds. But this alone they say in endurance compeers with life, an honest and good mind, to whomsoever it belong. But Time, when it so chance, holding up the mirror as to a young virgin, shows forth the bad, among whom may I be never seen!
CHOR. Alas! alas! In every way how fair is chastity, and how goodly a report has it among men!
NUR. My mistress, just now indeed thy calamity coming upon me unawares, gave me a dreadful alarm. But now I perceive I was weak; and somehow or other among mortals second thoughts are the wisest. For thou hast not suffered any thing excessive nor extraordinary, but the anger of the Goddess hath fallen upon thee. Thou lovest — what wonder this? with many mortals. — And then will you lose your life for love? There is then no advantage for those who love others, nor to those who may hereafter, if they must needs die. For Venus is a thing not to be borne, if she rush on vehement. Who comes quietly indeed on the person who yields; but whom she finds haughty and of lofty notions, him taking (how thinkest thou?) she chastises. But Venus goes through air, and is on the ocean wave; and all things from her have their birth. She it is that sows and gives forth love, from whence all we on earth are engendered. As many indeed as ken the writings of the ancients, or are themselves ever among the muses, they know indeed, how that Jove was formerly inflamed with the love of Semele; they know too, how that formerly the lovely bright Aurora bore away Cephalus up to the Gods, for love, but still they live in heaven, and fly not from the presence of the Gods: but they acquiesce yielding, I ween, to what has befallen them. And wilt thou not bear it? Thy father then ought to have begotten thee on stipulated terms, or else under the dominion of other Gods, unless thou wilt be content with these laws. How many, thinkest thou, are in full and complete possession of their senses, who, when they see their bridal bed diseased, seem not to see it! And how many fathers, thinkest thou, have aided their erring sons in matters of love, for this is a maxim among the wise part of mankind, “that things that show not fair should be concealed.” Nor should men labor too exactly their conduct in life, for neither would they do well to employ much accuracy in the roof wherewith their houses are covered; but having fallen into fortune so deep as thou hast, how dost thou imagine thou canst swim out? But if thou hast more things good than bad, mortal as thou art, thou surely must be well off. But cease, my dear child, from these evil thoughts, cease too from being haughty, for nothing else save haughtiness is this, to wish to be superior to the Gods. But, as thou art in love, endure it; a God hath willed it so: and, being ill, by some good means or other try to get rid of thy illness. But there are charms and soothing spells: there will appear some medicine for this sickness. Else surely men would be slow indeed in discoveries, if we women should not find contrivances.
CHOR. Phædra, she speaks indeed most useful advice in thy present state: but thee I praise. Yet is this praise less welcome than her words, and to thee more painful to hear.
PHÆ. This is it that destroys cities of men and families well governed — words too fair. For it is not at all requisite to speak words pleasant to the ear, but that whereby one may become of fair report.
NUR. Why dost thou talk in this grand strain? thou needest not gay decorated words, but a man: as soon as possible must those be found, who will speak out the plain straightforward word concerning thee. For if thy life were not in calamities of such a cast, I never would have brought thee thus far for the sake of lust, and for thy pleasure: but now the great point is to save thy life; and this is not a thing deserving of blame.
PHÆ. O thou that hast spoken dreadful things, wilt thou not shut thy mouth? and wilt not cease from uttering again those words most vile?
NUR. Vile they are, but better these for thee than fair; but better will the deed be (if at least it will save thee), than the name, in the which while thou boastest, thou wilt die.
PHÆ. Nay do not, I entreat thee by the Gods (for thou speakest well, but base are [the things thou speakest]) go beyond this, since rightly have I surrendered my life to love; but if thou speak base things in fair phrase, I shall be consumed, [being cast] into that [evil] which I am now avoiding.
NUR. If in truth this be thy opinion, thou oughtest not to err, but if thou hast erred, be persuaded by me, for this is the next best thing thou canst do. I have in the house soothing philters of love (and they but lately came into my thought); which, by no base deed, nor to the harm of thy senses, will rid you of this disease, unless you are obstinate. But it is requisite to receive from him that is the object of your love, some token, either some word, or some relic of his vest, and to join from two one love.
PHÆ. But is the charm an unguent or a potion?
NUR. I know not: wish to be relieved, not informed, my child.
PHÆ. I fear thee, lest thou should appear too wise to me.
NUR. Know that you would fear every thing, if you fear this, but what is it you are afraid of?
PHÆ. Lest you should tell any of these things to the son of Theseus.
NUR. Let be, my child, I will arrange these matters honorably, only be thou my coadjutor, O Venus, my revered mistress; but the other things which I purpose, it will suffice to tell to my friends within.
CHORUS, PHÆDRA.
CHOR. Love, love, O thou that instillest desire through the eyes, inspiring sweet affection in the souls of those against whom thou makest war, mayst thou never appear to me to my injury, nor come unmodulated: for neither is the blast of fire nor the bolt of heaven more vehement, than that of Venus, which Love, the boy of Jove, sends from his hands. In vain, in vain, both by the Alpheus, and at the Pythian temples of Phœbus does Greece then solemnize the slaughter of bulls: but Love, the tyrant of men, porter of the dearest chambers of Venus, we worship not, the destroyer and visitant of men in all shapes of calamity, when he comes. That virgin in Œchalia, yoked to no bridal bed, till then unwedded, and who knew no husband, having taken from her home a wanderer impelled by the oar, her, like some Bacchanal of Pluto, with blood, with smoke, and murderous hymeneals did Venus give to the son of Alcmena. O unhappy woman, because of her nuptials! O sacred wall of Thebes, O mouth of Dirce, you can assist me in telling, in what manner Venus comes: for by the forked lightning, by a cruel fate, did she put to eternal sleep the parent of the Jove-begotten Bacchus, when she was visited as a bride. For dreadful doth she breathe on all things, and like some bee hovers about.
PHÆ. Women, be silent: I am undone.
CHOR. What is there that affrights thee, Phædra, in thine house?
PHÆ. Be silent, that I may make out the voice of those within.
CHOR. I am silent: this however is an evil bodement.
PHÆ. Alas me! O! O! O! oh unhappy me, because of my sufferings!
CHOR. What sound dost thou utter? what word speakest thou? tell me what report frightens thee, lady, rushing upon thy senses!
PHÆ. We are undone. Do you, standing at these gates, hear what the noise is that strikes on the house?
CHOR. Thou art by the gate, the noise that is sent forth from the house is thy care. But tell me, tell me, what evil, I pray thee, came to thine ears?
&nb
sp; PHÆ. The son of the warlike Amazon, Hippolytus, cries out, abusing in dreadful forms my attendant.
CHOR. I hear indeed a noise, but can not plainly tell how it is. The voice came, it came through to the door.
PHÆ. But hark! he calls her plainly the pander of wickedness, the betrayer of her master’s bed.
CHOR. Alas me for thy miseries! Thou art betrayed, dear mistress. What shall I counsel thee? for hidden things are come to light, and thou art utterly destroyed ——
PHÆ. O! O!
CHOR. Betrayed by thy friends.
PHÆ. She hath destroyed me by speaking of my unhappy state, kindly but not honorably endeavoring to heal this disease.
CHOR. How then? what wilt thou do, O thou that hast suffered things incurable?
PHÆ. I know not, save one thing; to die as soon as possible is the only cure of my present sufferings.
HIPPOLYTUS, PHÆDRA, NURSE, CHORUS.
HIPP. O mother earth, and ye disclosing rays of the sun, of what words have I heard the dreadful sound!
NUR. Be silent, my son, before any one hears thy voice.
HIPP. It is not possible for me to be silent, when I have heard such dreadful things.
NUR. Nay, I implore thee by thy beauteous hand.
HIPP. Wilt not desist from bringing thy hand near me, and from touching my garments?
NUR. O! by thy knees, I implore thee, do not utterly destroy me.
HIPP. But wherefore this? since, thou sayest, thou hast spoken nothing evil.
NUR. This word, my son, is by no means to be divulged.
HIPP. It is more fair to speak fair things to many.
NUR. O my child, by no means dishonor your oath.
HIPP. My tongue hath sworn — my mind is still unsworn.
NUR. O my son, what wilt thou do? wilt thou destroy thy friends?
HIPP. Friends! I reject the word: no unjust person is my friend.
NUR. Pardon, my child: that men should err is but to be expected.
HIPP. O Jove, wherefore in the name of heaven didst thou place in the light of the sun that specious evil to men, women? for if thou didst will to propagate the race of mortals, there was no necessity for this to be done by women, but men might, having placed an equivalent in thy temples, either in brass, or iron, or the weighty gold, buy a race of children, each for the consideration of the value paid, and thus might dwell in unmolested houses, without females. But now, first of all, when we prepare to bring this evil to our homes, we squander away the wealth of our houses. By this too it is evident, that woman is a great evil; for the father, who begat her and brought her up, having given her a dowry sends her away in order to be rid of the evil. But the husband, on the other hand, when he has received the baneful evil into his house, rejoices, having added a beautiful decoration to a most vile image, and tricks her out with robes, unhappy man, while he has been insensibly minishing the wealth of the family. But he is constrained; so that having made alliance with noble kinsmen, he retains with [seeming] joy a marriage bitter to him: or if he has received a good bride, but worthless parents in law, he suppresses the evil that has befallen him by the consideration of the good. But his state is the easiest, whose wife is settled in his house, a cipher, but useless by reason of simplicity. But a wise woman I detest: may there not be in my house at least a woman more highly gifted with mind than woman ought to be. For Venus engenders mischief rather among clever women, but a woman who is not endowed with capacity, by reason of her small understanding, is removed from folly. But it is right that an attendant should have no access to a woman, but with them ought to dwell the speechless brute beasts, in which case they would be able neither to address any one, nor from them to receive a voice in return. But now, they that are evil follow after their evil devices within, and the servants carry it forth abroad. As thou also hast, O evil woman, come to the purpose of admitting me to share a bed which must not be approached — a father’s. Which impious things I will wash out with flowing stream, pouring it into my ears: how then could I be the vile one, who do not even deem myself pure, because I have heard such things? — But be well assured, my piety protects thee, woman, for, had I not been taken unawares by the oaths of the Gods, never would I have refrained from telling these things to my father. But now will I depart from the house, and stay during the time that Theseus is absent from the land, and will keep my mouth silent; but I will see, returning with my father’s return, how you will look at him, both you and your mistress. But your boldness I shall know, having before had proof of it. May you perish: but never shall I take my fill of hating women, not even if any one assert, that I am always saying this. For in some way or other they surely are always bad. Either then let some one teach them to be modest, or else let him suffer me ever to utter my invectives against them.
