Thes. Where lies the danger? wherefore should I

stay?

Lyc. Your sudden presence would surprize her soul, Renew the galling image of her wrongs,

"Revive her sorrow, indignation, shame;"

And all your son would strike her from your eyes.

Thes. My son !—But he's too good, too brave to wrong her.

Whence then that shocking change, that strong sur prize,

That fright that seiz'd him at the name of Phædra ?
Lyc. Was he surpriz'd? that shew'd at least remorse?
Thes. Remorse! for what? by heav'n's, my troubled
thoughts

Presage some dire attempts.-Say, what remorse?
Lyc. I would not-yet I must: this you command;
This Phædra orders; thrice her fault'ring tongue
Bad me unfold the guilty scene to Theseus ;
Thrice with loud cries recall'd me on my way,

And blam'd my speed, and chid my rash obedience,
"Lest the unwelcome tale should wound your peace."
At last, with looks serenely sad, she cried:
Go tell it all; but in such artful words,
Such tender accents, and such melting sounds,
As may appease his rage, and move his pity;
As may incline him to forgive his son
A grievous fault, but still a fault of love.

Thes. Of love! what strange suspicions rack
As you regard my peace, declare what love!

my

soul!

Lyc. Thus urg'd, I must declare. Yet, pitying

heav'n!

Why must I speak? why must unwilling Lycon
Accuse the prince of impious love to Phædra?

Thes. Love to his mother! To the wife of Theseus!

Lyc. Yes, at the moment first he view'd her eyes, Ev'n at the altar, when you join'd your hands,

His easy

heart receiv'd the guilty flame, And from that time he press'd her with his passion. Thes. Then 'twas for this she banish'd him fromCrete; I thought it hatred all. O righteous hatred! Forgive me, heav'n; forgive me, injur'd Phædra, That I in secret have condemn'd thy justice. Oh! 'twas all just, and Theseus shall revenge, Ev'n on his son, revenge his Phædra's wrongs. Lyc. What easy tools are these blunt honest heroes, Who, with keen hunger, gorge the naked hook, Prevent the bait the statesman's art prepares, And post to ruin-" Go, believing fool, "Go at thy far-fam'd justice on thy son, "Next on thyself, and both make way for Lycon."

[Aside. Thes. Ha! am I sure she's wrong'd? perhaps 'tis malice.

Slave, make it clear, make good your accusation,
Or treble fury shall revenge my son.

Lyc. Am I then doubted? can Phædra, or your Lycon, Be thought to forge such execrable falsehoods? "Gods! when the queen unwillingly complains, "Can you suspect her truth? O godlike Theseus!

"Is this the love you bear unhappy Phædra?

Is this her hop'd-for aid? Go, wretched matron, Sigh to the winds, and rend th' unpitying heav'ns "With thy vain sorrows; since relentless Theseus, "Thy hope, thy refuge, Theseus will not hear thee." Thes. "Not hear my Phædra! not revenge her

wrongs!"

Speak, make thy proofs, and then his doom's as fix'd, As when Jove nods, and high Olympus shakes,

And fate his voice obeys.

Lyc. Yet stay; bear witness, heav'n!

[fetches a sword.

With what reluctance I produce this sword,
This fatal proof against th' unhappy prince,
Lest it should work your justice to his ruin,
And prove he aim'd at force as well as incest.
Thes. Gods; 'tis.illusion all! "Is this the sword
"By which Procrustes, Scyron, Pallas fell?

Is this the weapon which my darling son

"Swore to employ in nought but acts of honour?
"Now, faithful youth, thou nobly hast fulfill'd
"Thy gen'rous promise. Oh, most injur'd Phædraf.
"Why did I trust to his deceitful form?
"Why blame thy justice, or suspect thy truth

Lyc. Had you this morn beheld his ardent eyes,
Seen his arm lock'd in her dishevell'd hair,
That weapon glitt'ring o'er her trembling bosom,
Whilst she with screams refus'd his impious love,
Entreating death, and rising to the wound!

"Oh! had you seen her, when th' affrighted youth

"Retir'd at your approach; had you then seen her, "In the chaste transports of becoming fury, "Seize on the sword to pierce her guiltless bosom;" Had you seen this, you could not doubt her truth. Thes, Oh, impious monster! oh, forgive me, Phædral And may the gods inspire my injur'd soul With equal vengeance that may suit his crimes.

Lyc. For Phædra's sake forbear to talk of vengeance; That, with new pains, would wound her tender breast. Send him away from Crete, and by his absence Give Phædra quiet, and afford him

mercy. Thes. "Mercy! for what? oh! well has he rewarded "Poor Phædra's mercy.O most barb'rous traitor! "To wrong such beauty, and insult such goodness." Mercy! what's that? a virtue coin'd by villains, "Who praise the weakness which supports their crimes."

Be mute, and fly; lest when my rage is rous'd,
Thou for thyself in vain implore my mercy.

Lyc. Dull fool, I laugh at mercy more than thou dost ;
More than I do the justice thou'rt so fond of.
Now come, young hero, to thy father's arms,
Receive the due reward of haughty virtue;

Now boast thy race, and laugh at earth-born Lycon.

HIPPOLITUS enters.

[Aside and Exit.

Thes. Yet can it be ?-Is this th' incestuous villain?

"How great his presence, how erect his look, "How ev'ry grace, how all his virtuous mother

Shines in his face, and charms me from his eyes!

"O Neptune! O great founder of our race!

"Why was he fram`d with such a godlike look ?”
Why wears he not some most detested form,
"Baleful to sight, as horrible to thought;"
That I might act my justice without grief,
Punish the villain, nor regret the son?

Hip. May I presume to ask, what secret care
Broods in your breast, and clouds your royal brow?
Why dart your awful eyes those angry beams,
And fright Hippolitus they us'd to chear?

Thes. Answer me first. When call'd to wait on
Phædra,

What sudden fear surpriz'd your troubled soul?
Why did your ebbing blood forsake your cheeks?
Why did you hasten from your father's arms,
To shun the queen your duty bids you please?
Hip. My lord, to please the queen I'm forc'd to shun

her,

And keep this hated object from her sight.

Thes. Say, what's the cause of her invet'rate hatred ?
Hip. My lord, as yet I never gave her cause.
Thes. "O were it so!" [Aside.] When last did you
attend her?

Hip. When last attend her!-O unhappy queen!
Your error's known; yet I disdain to wrong you;

"Or to betray a fault myself have caus'd.” When last attend her?

[Aside.

Thes. Answer me directly;

father's rage.

Nor dare to trifle with your

Hip. My lord, this very morn I saw the queen.