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Drove you from court, from Crete, and from your
Hij. My hate to Phædra !
Phæd. Why your queen and mother?
Hip. Oh, I'll defend him! with my life defend hiin!
Pbæd. A father's love! Oh, doubtful sounds! oh, vain deceitful hopes ! My grief's much eas`d by this transcending goodness, And Theseus' death sits lighter on my soul,
Death! he's not dead : he lives, he breathes, he speaks;
Hip. Oh, glorious folly!
Phed. Love him, indeed! dote, languish, die for him. Forsake
my food, my sleep, all joys for Theseus; “ (But not that hoary venerable Theseus)” But Theseus, as he was when mantling blood Glow'd in his lovely cheeks ; “ when his bright eyes “ Sparkled with youthful fires;" when ev'ry grace Shone in the father, which now crowns the son i When Theseus was Hippolitus.
Hip. Ha!-amazement strikes me : Where will this end?
Lyc. Is’t difficult to guess ? Does not her flying paleness, “ that but now “ Sat cold and languid in her facling cheek, “ (Where now succeeds a momentary lustre) “ Does not her beating heart," her trembling limbs, Her wishing looks, her speech, her present silence, A!), all proclaim imperial Phædra loves you ?
Hip. What do I hear? what, does no lightning flash, No thunder bellow, when such monstrous crimes Are own'd, avow'd, confest? All-seeing Sun! Hide, hide in shameful night thy beamy head, And cease to view the horrors of thy race. Alas! I share th’amazing guilt; these eyes, That first inspir'd the black incestuous flame,
These ears, that heard the tale of impious love,
Phæd. Alas, iny lord ! believe me not so vile.
Hip. Then let me take the warning and retire ;
“ [Ismena shews berself, listening."
Lycon ? I.yc. Yes; from that Lycon who derives his greatness Fro:n Phædra's race, and now would guard her life. Then, sir, forbear, view here this royal signet, And in her faithful slave obey the queen.
CRATANDER and Guards enter. Guards, watch the prince, but at that awful distance, With that respect it may not seem confinement, But only meant for honour.
Hip. So, confinement is
Then Theseus sav'd your lives, estates, and honours,
Lyc. Take not an easy short confinement ill, Which your own safety and the queen's requires; Nor harbour fear of one that joys to serve you.
Hip. Oh, I disdain thee, traitor, but not fear thee ; Nor will I hear of services from Lycon. Thy very looks are lies: eternal falshood Smiles in thy looks, and Aatters in thy eyes ; Ev'n in thy humble face I read my ruin, In ev'ry cringing bow and fawning smile. Why else d'ye whisper out your dark suspicions ? Why with malignant elogies encrease The people's fears, and praise me to my ruin ? Why thro' the troubled streets of frighted Gnossus Do bucklers, helms, and polish'd armour blaze ? Why sounds the dreadful din of instant war, Whilst still the foe's unknown?
Lyc. Then quit thy arts; Put off the statesman, and resume the judge. (Aside, Thou, Proteus, shift thy various forms no more, But boldly own the god.
That foe's too near.
[To Hip. The queen's disease, and your aspiring mind, Disturb all Crete, and give a loose to war.
Hip. Gods ! dares he speak thus to a monarch's son, And must this earth-born slave command in Crete? Was it for this my godlike father fought? Did Theseus bleed for Lycon ? Oye Cretans, See there your king, the successor of Minos, And heir of Jove. Lyc. You may as well provoke