Graham del. MHOLMAN as HIPPOLITUS. "Will you not go? then here I'll wait my doom. Ism. Oh! haste away, my lord; I go, I fly, Through all the dangers of the boist'rous deep: When the wind whistles through the crackling masts, When through the yawning ship the foaming sea Rowls bubbling in; then, then I'll clasp thee fast, And in transporting love forget my fear. Oh! I will wander through the Scythian gloom, O'er ice, and hills of everlasting snow; There, when the horrid darkness shall inclose us, When the bleak wind shall chill my shiv'ring limbs, Thou shalt alone supply the distant sun, And chear my gazing eyes, and warm my heart. Than he from Colchis bore. Sleep, sleep in peace, And bay the fancy'd boar with feeble sounds; [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE 1. LYCON and Guards enter. Lycon. HEAV'N is at last appeas'd: the pitying gods Joy with fresh strength inspires her drooping limbs, PHEDRA, and four Ladies, enter. "How her eyes sparkle! how their radiant beams "Confess their shining ancestor the sun!" Your charms to day will wound despairing crowds, And give the pains you suffer'd: nay, Hippolitus, The fierce, the brave, th' insensible Hippolitus, Shall pay a willing homage to your beauty, And in his turn adore.- Phaed. 'Tis flatt'ry all. Yet when you name the prince, that flatt'ry's pleasing; Is there aught else? has happy Phædra aught A Messenger enters. Say, where's the prince ? Mess. He's no where to be found. Phaed. Perhaps, he hunts. Mess. He hunted not to-day. Phaed. Ha! have you search'd the walks, the courts, the temples? Mess. Search'd all in vain. Phaed. Did he not hunt to-day? Alas! you told me once before he did not: [Exit Mess. My heart misgives me. Lyc." So indeed doth mine." Then my fears were true. Phaed. Could he deceive me? could that godlike youth Design the ruin of a queen that loves? Oh! he's all truth; his words, his looks, his eyes, A Messenger enters. Mess. Madam, Hippolitus with fair Ismena Drove tow'rd the port. Phaed. With fair Ismena! Curst be her cruel beauty, curst her charms, Curst all her soothing, fatal, false endearments. "That heav'nly virgin, that exalted goodness, "Could see me tortur'd with despairing love, "With artful tears could mourn my monstrous suff 'rings, "While her base malice plotted my destruction." Lyc. A thousand reasons crowd upon my soul, That evidence their love. "Phaed. Yes, yes, they love; "Why else should he refuse my profer'd bed? "Why should one warm'd with youth, and thirst of glory, "Disdain a soul, a form, a crown like mine? |