"Of my lov'd hero's welfare, life, and honour : "That dear remembrance will improve the bliss,

"Add to th' Elysian joys, and make that Heav'n more happy."

Hip. "O heav'nly virgin! [Aside.]" O imperial Phædra,

Let your rage fall on this devoted head;

But spare, Oh! spare a guiltless virgin's life: "Think of her youth, her innocence, her virtue; "Think with what warm compassion she bemoan'd you; "Think how she serv'd and watch'd you in your sickness ;

"How ev'ry rising and descending sun

"Saw kind Ismena watching o'er the queen."

I only promis'd, I alone deceiv'd you ;

And I, and only I, should feel your justice.

Ism. Oh! by those pow'rs to whom I soon must

answer

For all my faults; by that bright arch of heav'n

I now last see, I wrought him by my wiles,

By tears, by threats, by ev'ry female art,

Wrought his disdaining soul to false compliance.
The son of Theseus could not think of fraud;
'Twas woman all.

Phaed. I see 'twas woman all:

And woman's fraud should meet with woman's ven

geance.

But yet thy courage, truth, and virtue shock me:

A love so warm, so firm, so like my own.

Oh had the gods so pleas'd, had bounteous heav`n
Bestow'd Hippolitus on Phædra's arms,

So had I stood the shock of angry fate;

So had I giv'n my life with joy to save him.

Hip. And can you doom her death? can Minos' daughter

Condemn the virtue which her soul admires?

Are not you Phædra? once the boast of fame,
Shame of our sex, and pattern of your own.
Phaed. Am I that Phædra? no; another soul,
Informs my alter'd frame. Could else Ismena
Provoke my hatred, yet deserve my love?
Aid me, ye gods, support my sinking glory,
Restore my reason, and confirm my virtue.
Yet, is my rage unjust? then, why was Phædra
Rescu'd for torment, and preserv'd for pain?
Why did you raise me to the height of joy,
Above the wreck of clouds and storms below,
To dash and break me on the ground for ever?
Ism. Was it not time to urge him to compliance,
At least to feign it, when perfidious Lycon

Confin'd his person, and conspir'd his death?
Phaed. Confin'd and doom'd to death!-

Lycon!

-O cruel

Could I have doom'd thy death? could these sad eyes, That lov'd thee living, e'er behold thee dead? Yet thou could'st see me die without concern, Rather than save a wretched queen from ruin. "Else could you choose to trust the warring winds, "The swelling waves, the rocks, the faithless sands, "And all the raging monsters of the deep?" Oh! think you see me on the naked shore;

E

Think how I scream and tear my scatter'd hair;
Break from th' embraces of my shrieking maids,
And harrow on the sand my bleeding bosom ;
Then catch with wide-stretch'd arms the empty billows,
And headlong plunge into the gaping deep.

Hip. O dismal state! my bleeding heart relents,
And all my thoughts dissolve in tend'rest pity.
Phad. If you can pity, oh! refuse not love;
But stoop to rule in Crete, the seat of heroes,
And nursery of gods. A hundred cities

Court thee for lord, "where the rich busy crowds "Struggle for passage through the spacious streets; "Where thousand ships o'ershade the less'ning main, "And tire the lab'ring wind. The suppliant nations "Bow to its ensigns, and with lower'd sails "Confess the ocean's queen. For thee alone "The winds shall blow, and the vast ocean roll. "For thee alone the fam'd Cydonian warriors "From twanging yews shall send their fatal shafts. "Hip. Then let me march their leader, not their prince;

"And at the head of your renown'd Cydonians "Brandish this far-fam'd sword of conqu'ring Theseus; "That I may shake th' Egyptian tyrant's yoke "From Asia's neck, and fix it on his own; "That willing nations may obey your laws, "And your bright ancestor, the sun, may shine "On nought but Phaedra's empire.

"Fhad. Why not thine?

"Dost thou so far detest my proffer'd bed,

"As to refuse my crown ?-O cruel youth! "By all the pain that wrings my tortur'd soul, By all the dear deceitful hopes you gave me, "O ease, at least once more delude, my sorrows, "For your dear sake I've lost my darling honours "For you but now I gave my soul to death; "For you I'd quit my crown, and stoop beneath "The happy bondage of an humble wife; "With thee I'd climb the steepy Ida's summit, "And in the scorching heat and chilling dews, "O'er hills, o'er vales, pursue the shaggy lion. "Careless of danger, and of wasting toil, "Of pinching hunger, and impatient thirst, "I'll find all joys in thee.

Hip. Why stoops the queen

“To ask, intreat, to supplicate, and pray
"To prostitute her crown and sex's honour,
"To one whose humble thoughts can only rise
"To be your slave, not lord?

"Phæd. And is that all?"

See if he deign to force an artful groan,
Or call a tear from his unwilling eyes?

"Hard as his native rocks, cold as his sword,
"Fierce as the wolves that howl'd around his birth!
"He hates the tyrant, and the suppliant scorns.
"O Heav'n! O Minos! O imperial Jove!
"Do ye not blush at my degenerate weakness?”
Hence, lazy, mean, ignoble passions fly!

Hence from my soul-'Tis gone, 'tis fled for ever;

And heav'n inspires my thoughts with righteous ven

geance.

Thou shalt no more despise my offer'd love ;.
No more Ismena shall upbraid my weakness.

[Catches Hip. sword to stab herself. Now, all ye kindred gods, look down and see How I'll revenge you, and myself, on Phædra.

LYCON enters, and snatches away the Sword,

Lyc. Horror on horror! Theseus is return'd. Phaed. Theseus! then what have I to do with life? May I be snatch'd with winds, by earth o'erwhelm'd, Rather than view the face of injur'd Theseus. Now wider still my growing horrors spread, My fame, my virtue, nay my phrenzy's fled; Then view thy wretched race, imperial Jove, If crimes enrage you, or misfortunes move; On me your flames, on me your bolts employ, Me if your anger spares, your pity should destroy,

Lyc. This may do service yet.

[Runs off.

[Exit Lycon, carries off the sword.

Hip. Is he return'd? thanks to the pitying gods!

Shall I again behold his awful eyes?

Again be folded in his loving arms ?

Yet in the midst of joy I fear for Phædra;
I fear his warmth and unrelenting justice.
Oh! should her raging passion reach his ears,
His tender love, by anger fir'd, would turn