Hear one that comes to shield his injur'd honour, Thes. Tho' thou'rt the daughter of my hated foe; "Tho' ev'n thy beauty's loathsome to my eyes;" Yet justice bids me hear thee. Ism. Thus I thank you. Then know, mistaken prince, his honest soul [Kneels. Could ne'er be sway'd by impious love to Phædra, "With all my wiles subdu'd his struggling heart; Thes. Speak, is this true? on thy obedience, speak. Hip. So charg'd, I own the dang`rous truth; I own Against her will, I lov'd the fair Ismena. Thes. Canst thou be only clear'd by disobedience, And justified by crimes? What, love my foe! "Love one descended from a race of tyrants, "Whose blood yet reeks on my avenging sword!" I'm curst each moment I delay thy fate. Haste to the shades, “and tell the happy Pallas "Ismena's flames, and let him taste such joys "As thou giv'st me;" go tell applauding Minos The pious love you bore his daughter Phædra; Tell it the chatt'ring ghosts, and hissing furies, Tell it the grinning fiends, till hell sound nothing To thy pleas'd ears but Phædra, thy mother Phædra! Here, guards. CRATANDER and Guards enter. Seize him, Cratander; take this guilty sword, Let his own hand avenge the crimes it acted, G And bid him die, at least, like Theseus' son. Hip. Heav'ns! how that strikes me! how it wounds my soul To think of your unutterable sorrows, my Nor wound again Hippolitus in Theseus. "Let all my virtues, all my joys survive "Fresh in your breast, but be my woes forgot; "The woes which fate, and not my father, wrought. "Oh, let me dwell for ever in your thoughts, "Let me be honour'd still, but not deplor'd." Thes." Then thy chief care is for thy father's life. "O blooming hypocrite! O young dissembler! "Well hast thou shewn the care thou tak'st of Theseus." O all ye gods! how this enflames my fury. I scarce can hold my rage; my eager hands Tremble to reach thee. No, dishonour'd Theseus, Blot not thy fame with such a monster's blood. Snatch him away. Hip. Lead on. Farewell, Ismena. [Exit guarded. Ism. Oh! take me with him, let me share his fate. O awful Theseus! yet revoke his doom. "See, see the very ministers of death, "Tho' bred toblocd, yet shrink, and wish to save him." Thes. Slaves, villains, drag her away. "Ism. Oh, tear me, cut me, till my sever'd limbs "Grow to my lord, and share the pains he suffers. "Thes. Villains, away!" Ism. O Theseus! hear me, hear me. "Thes. Away, nor taint me with thy loathsome touch. "Off, woman. "Ism." Oh let me stay! I'll tell you all. [Exit Theseus. "Already gone. Tell it, ye conscious walls; "Bear it, ye winds, upon your pitying wings; "Resound it, Fame, with all your hundred tongues. "O hapless youth! all heaven conspires against you. "The conscious walls conceal the fatal secret; "Th' untainted winds refuse th' infecting load, "And Fame itself is mute. Nay, ev'n Ismena, "Thy own Ismena's sworn to thy destruction. "But still, whate'er, the cruel gods design, "In the same fate our equal stars combine, "And he who dooms thy death pronounces mine." Thes. Too well I know the truth; What cou'd she tell me but fictitious art, By woman's art deriv`d to turn the course Of justice from a wretch, whose death both gods And men demand of Theseus. ACT V. SCENE I. PHEDRA and LYCON enter. Lycon. Accuse yourself! On my knees I beg you, Heav'ns! will you stand the dreaded rage of Theseus; Yet sha'n't you boast the miseries you cause, Lyc. Was it not your command? has faithful Lycon E'er spoke, e'er thought, "design'd, contriv'd, or acted? "Has he done aught" without the queen's consent? Phad. Plead'st thou consent to what thou first inspir'dst? "Was that consent? O senseless politician! When adverse passions struggl'd in my breast ; "When anger, fear, love, sorrow, guilt, despair, "Dove out my reason, and usurp'd my soul. "Yet this consent you plead, O faithless Lycon ! "Oh, only zealous for the fame of Phædra! "With this you blot my name, and clear your own; And what's my phrenzy shall be call'd my crime, "What then is thine? thou cool, deliberate villain; "Thou wise, fore-thinking, weighing politician! Lyc. Oh! 'twas so black a charge, my tongue recoil'd Phad. What's life? O all ye gods! can life atone Falls by the sordid hands of butchering villains; "And Nature sallies in unbidden groans; "Now mortal pangs distort his lovely form, "Now darkling swim, and fix their closing beams |