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Renew the galling image of her wrongs,
Revive her forrow, indignation, fhame,
And all your fon would trike her from your eyes.
Thef. My fon!—But he's too good, too brave
to wrong her.

Whence then that thocking change, that ftrong

furprise,

That fright that feiz'd him at the name of Phædra?
Lyc. Was he furpris'd? that fhew'd at leaft re-
mòrfe.

Thef. Remorse for what? by heavens, my
'troubled thoughts
Prefage fome dite attempts-fay, what remorfe?
Lyc. I would not-yet I muft; this you com-
mand;

This Phædra orders; thrice her fault'ring tongue
Bad me unfold the guilty fcene to Thefeus;
Thrice with loud cries recall'd me on my way,
And blam'd my fpeed, and chid my rafh obedience,
Left the unwelcome tale thould wound your peace.
At laft, with looks ferenely fad, she cried,
Go tell it all; but in fuch artful words,
Such tender accents, and fuch melting founds,
As may appeafe his rage, and move his pity;
As may incline him to forgive his fon
A grievous fault, but ftill a fault of love.

Thef. Of love? what range fufpicions rack
my foul!

As you regard my peace, declare what love!

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Speak, make thy proofs; and then his doom's as
fix'd

As when Jove nods, and high Olympus fhakes,
And fate his voice obeys.

Lyc. Yet ftay, bear witness, heaven!

[fetches a fword.
With what reluctance I produce this fword,
This fatal proof against th' unhappy prince,
Left it should work your juftice to his ruin,
And prove he aim'd at force as well as inceft.

Thef. Gods! 'tis illufion all! Is this the fword
By which Procruftes, Sciron, Pallas fell
Is this the weapon which my darling fon
Swore to employ in nought but acts of honour?
Now, faithful youth, thou nobly haft fulfill'd
Thy gen'rous promife. O most injur'd Phædra!
Why did I trust to his deceitful form?
Why blame thy juftice, or fufpect thy truth?

Lyc. Had you this morn beheld his ardent eyes,
Seen his arm lock'd in her difhevell'd hair,
That weapon glitt'ring o'er her trembling bofom,
Whilft the with fcreams refus'd his impious love,
Entreating death, and rifing to the wound!

Lyc. Thus urg'd, I must declare. Yet, pity-O! had you feen her, when th' affrighted youth

ing heaven!

Retir'd at your approach; had you then feen her, Why must I speak? why muft unwilling Lycon In the chafte tranfports of becoming fury, Accufe the prince of impious love to Phædra?

Seize on the fword to pierce her guiltless bofom?

Thef. Love to his mother! to the wife of The-Had you feen this, you could not doubt her

feus!

Lyc. Yes; at the moment first he view'd her eyes,
Ev'n at the altar, when you join'd your hands,
His eafy heart receiv'd the guilty flame,
And from that time he prefs'd her with his paffion.
Thef. Then 'twas for this the banish'd him from
Crete;

I thought it hatred all. O righteous hatred!
Forgive me, heaven! forgive me, injur'd Phædra,
That I in fecret have condemn'd thy justice.
O! 'twas all juft; and Thefeus fhall revenge,
Ev'n on his fon, revenge his Phædra's wrongs.

c. What eafy tools are these blunt honeft he

roes,

truth.

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Thef. Yet can it be? Is this th' incestuous vil-
Lain?

How great his prefence, how erect his look,
How ev'ry grace, how all his virtuous mother
Shines in his face, and charins me from his eyes!
Neptune! O great founder of our race!
Why was he fram'd with fuch a godlike look ?
Why wears he not fome moft detefted form,
Baleful to fight, as horrible to thought;
That I might act my justice without grief,
Punish the villain, not regret the fon?

Hip. May I prefume to afk, what fecret care Broods in your breaft, and clouds your royal brow? Why dart your awful eyes thofe angry beams, And fright Hippolitus they us'd to cheer?

Thef. Aufwer me firit. When call'd to wait on Phædra,

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Hip. My lord, as yet I never gave her caufe. Thef. O were it fo! [Afide.] When last did you attend her?

Hip. When laft attend her-0 unhappy queen!

Your error's known, yet I difdain to wrong you, Or to betray a fault myfelf have caus'd. [Afide. When laft attend her?

Thef. Anfwer me directly;

Nor dare to trifle with your father's rage.

Hip. My lord, this very morn I faw the queen.
Thef. What pafs'd?

Hip. I afk'd permiffion to retire.
Thef. And was that all?

Hip. My lord, I humbly beg,

With the moft low fubmiffions, afk no more. Thef. Yet you don't answer with your low fubmiflions.

Anfiver, or never hope to fee me more.

Hip. Too much he knows, I fear, without my telling;

And the poor queen's betray'd, and loft for ever. [Afide.

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Not one of thofe of the moft horrid form,
Of which my hand has cas'd the burthen'd earth,
Was half fo fhocking to my fight as thou.

Hip. Where am I, gods? is that my father Thefeus?

Am I awake am I Hippolitus?

Thef. Thou art that fiend, thou art Hippolitus,

Thou art.-O fall, O fatal ftain to honour!
How had my vain imagination form'd thee!
Drave as Alcides, and as Minos juft.
Sometimes it led me thro' the maze of war;
There it furvey'd thee ranging thro' the field,
Mowing down troops, and dealing out destruction.
Sometimes with wholefome laws reforming ftates,
Crowning their happy joys with peace and plenty;
While vou-

Hip. With all my father's foul infpir'd,
Burnt with impatient thirft of early honour,
To hunt thro' bloody fields the chace of glory,
And blefs your age with trophies like your own.
Gods, how that warm'd me! how my throbbing
heart

Leap'd to the image of my father's joy,
When you fhould ftrain me in your folding

arms,

And with kind raptures, and with fobbing joys
Commend my valour, and confeis
your fon!
How did I think my glorious toil o'erpaid!
Then great indeed, and in my father's love
With more than conqueft crown'd,
Cry, Go on, Hippolitus!

Go tread the rugged paths of daring honour;
Practife the ftrictcft and auftereft virtue,
And all the rigid laws of righteous Minos:
Thefeus, thy father Thefeus, will reward thee.
Thef. Reward thec!-yes, as Minos would re
ward thee.

Was Mincs then thy pattern? and did Minos,
The great, the good, the juft, the righteous Mi

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Hip. Is there no way, no thought. no beam of light?

No clue to guide me thro' this gloomy maze,
To clear my honour, yet preferve my faith?
None, none, ye pow'rs! and muft I groan beneath
This execrable load of foul dishonour?
Muft Thefeus fuffer fuch unheard of torture?
Thefeus, my father! No. I'll break thro' all:
All oaths, all vows, all idle imprecations
I'll give them to the winds. Hear me, my lord;
Hear your wrong'd fon. The fword-O fatal vow,
Enfuaring oaths-and thou, rafh thoughtless fool,
To bind thy felf in voluntary chains!
Yet to thy fatal truft continue firm !
Beneath difgrace, tho' infamous, yet honeft.
Yet hear me, father:-May the righteous gods
Show'r all their curfes on this wretched head!
O, may they doom me

Thef. Yes, the gods will doom thee. The fword, the fword!-Now fwear, and call to witness

Heaven, hell, and earth, I mark it not from one That breathes beneath fuch complicated guilt. Hip. Was that like guilt, when with expanded

arms

I fprang to meet you at your wifh'd return ?
Does this appear like guilt, when thus ferene,
With eyes erect, and vifage unappall'd,
Fix'd on that awful face, I ftand the charge,
Amaz'd, not fearing? Say, if I am guilty,
Where are the confcious looks, the face now pale,
Now flushing red, the downcaft haggard eyes,
Or fix'd on earth, or flowly rais'd to catch
A fearful view, then funk again with horror?
Thef. This is for raw, untaught, unfinish'd

villains.

Thou in thy bloom haft reach'd th' abhorr'd perfection;

Thy even looks could wear a peaceful calm, The beauteous ftamp (O Heavens !) of faultlefs virtue,

While thy foul heart contriv'd this horrid deed!
O harden'd fiend! I'll hear no more!
Disturb thy foul, or ruffle thy fmooth brow!
What! no remorte? no qualms? no pricking
pangs?

No feeble struggle of rebelling honour?
O! 'twas thy joy, thy fecret hoard of blifs,
To dream, to ponder, act it o'er in thought;
To doat, to dwell on ; as rejoicing mifers
Brood o'er their precious ftores of fecret gold.
Hip. Muft I not fpeak? Then fay, unerring
Heaven,

Why was I born with fuch a thirst of glory?
Why did this morning dawn to my dishonour
Why did not pitying fate with ready death
Prevent the guilty day?

Thef. Guilty indeed.

Ev'n at the time you heard your father's death,
And fuch a father (O immortal gods!)
As held thee dearer than his life and glory!
When thou shouldst rend the fkies with claim'rous
grief,

Beat thy fad breaft, and tear thy starting hair:
Then to my bed to force your impious way;
With horrid luft t' infult my yet warm urn;
Make me the fcorn of hell, and fport for fiends!
Thefe are the fun'ral honours paid to Thefeus,
Thefe are the forrows, thefe the hallow'd rites,
To which you'd call your father's hov'ring spirit,
Enter Imena.

Ifm. Hear me, my lord, ere yet you fix lis doom: [Turning to Thefeus. Hear one that comes to fhield his injur'd honour, And guard his life with hazard of her own.

Thef. Tho' thou'rt the daughter of my hated
foe,

Tho' ev'n thy beauty's loathfome to my cycs,
Yet juftice bids me hear thee.

[Kneels.

Im. Thus I thank you.
Thien know, mistaken prince, his honeft foul
Could ne'er be fway'd by impious love to Pha-
dra,

Since I before engag'd his carly vows;
With all my wiles fubdued his struggling heart,
For long his duty ftruggled with his love.

Thef. Speak, is this true? on thy obedience
fpeak.

Hip. So charg'd, I own the dang'rous truth;
I own,

Against her will, I lov'd the fair Ifmena.
Thef. Canft thou be only clear'd by disobe-
dience,
And juftified by crimes? What, love
my foe!
Love one defcended from a race of tyrants,
Whofe blood yet reeks on my avenging
fword!

I'm curft each moment I delay thy fate.
Hafte to the fhades, and tell the happy Pallas
Ifmena's flames, and let him-tafte fuch joys
As thou giv'ft me; go tell applauding Minos
The pious love you bore his daughter Phædra;
Tell it the chatt'ring ghofts, and Lifting
furies,

Tell it the grinning fiends, till hell found nothing

To thy pleas'd ears but Phædra, thy mother
Phædra!
Here, guards!

Enter

Enter Cratander and Guards.

Seize him, Cratander; take this guilty fword,
Let his own hand avenge the crimes it acted,
And bid him die, at least, like Thefeus' fon.
Take him away, and execute my orders.
Hip. Heavens! how that frikes me! how it
wounds my foul

you

To think of your unutterable forrows,
When fhall find Hippolitus was guiltlefs!
Yet when you know the innocence you doom'd,
When you shall mourn your fon's unhappy fate,
O, I befeech you by the love you bore me,
With my laft words (my words will then prevail),
O, for my fake forbear to touch your life,
Nor wound again Hippolitus in Thefeus.
Let all my virtues, all my joys furvive
Fresh in your breast, but be my woes forgot;
The woes which fate, and not my father, wrought.
O, let me dwell for ever in your thoughts;
Let me be honour'd still, but not deplor'd.

Thef. Then thy chief care is for thy father's
life?

diffembler! O blooming hypocrite! O young Well haft thou fhewn the care thou tak'ft of Thefeus.

By woman's art deriv'd to turn the course
Of justice from a wretch, whose death both gods
And men demand of Thefeus.

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Thefeus,

of

And brand your fame, and work your own destruction!

Phad. By thee I'm branded, and by thee deftroy'd;

Thou bofom ferpent, thou alluring fiend!
Yet fhan't you boaft the miferies you cause,
Nor 'fcape the ruin you have brought on all.
Lyc. Was it not your command? has faithful
Lycon

E'er fpoke, e'er thought, defign'd, contriv'd, or acted,

Has he done aught, without the queen's confent? Phæd. Plead ft thou confent to what thou first infpir'dft?

Was that confent? O fenfelefs politician!

O all ye gods! how this inflames my fury!
I fcarce can hold my rage; my cager hands
Tremble to reach thee. No, difhonour'd The-When adverfe paffions ftruggled in my breast,

feus,

Blot not thy fame with fuch a monster's blood. Snatch him away.

Hip. Lead on. Farewel, Ifmena.

[Exit guarded. Ifm. O! take me with him, let me thare his

fate.

O awful Thefeus! yet revoke his doom.
See, fee the very minifters of death,

Tho' bred to blood, yet fhrink, and wish to fave

him.

Thef. Slaves, villains, drag her away.
Ifm. O, tear me, cut me, till my fever'd limbs
Grow to my lord, and thare the pains he fuffers.
Thef. Villains, away!

Ifm. O Thefeus! hear me, hear me !
Thef. Away, nor taint me with thy loathfome

touch.

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When anger, fear, love, forrow, guilt, defpair,
Drove out my reafon, and ufurp'd my foul!
Yet this confent you plead, O faithlefs Lycon!
O, only zealous for the fame of Phædra !
With this you blot my name and clear your own;
And what's my phrenzy fhall be call'd my crime.
What then is thine, thou cool, deliberate villain,
Thou wife, fore-thinking, weighing politician?

Lyc. O'twas fo black a charge, my tongue

recoil'd

At its own found, and horror shook my foul;
Yet ftill, tho' pierc'd with fuch amazing anguish,
Such was my zeal, fo much I lov'd my queen,
I broke thro' all, to fave the life of Phædra.

Phad. What's life? O all ye gods! can life

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traitor!

See, his rich blood in purple torrents flows,
And Nature fallies in unbidden groans?
Now mortal pangs distort his lovely form,
His rofy beauties fade, his starry eyes
Now darkling fwim, and fix their clofing beams:
Now in fhort grafps his lab'ring spirit heaves,
And weakly flutters on his fault'ring tongue,
And ftruggles into found. Hear, monster, hear!
With his laft breath he curfes perjur'd Phædra;
He fummons Phædra to the bar of Minos:
Thou too fhalt there appear; to torture thee
Whole hell fhall be employ'd, and fuff'ring Phædra
Shall

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Shall find fome eafe, to fee thee ftill more wretched. Lyc. O all ye pow'rs! O Phædra! hear me, hear me,

By all my zeal, by all my anxious cares,
By thofe unhappy crimes I wrought to ferve you,
By thefe old wither'd limbs, and hoary hairs,
By all my tears-O heavens! fhe minds me not;
She hears not my complaints. O wretched Ly-

con !

To what art thou referv'd?

Pbad. Referv'd to all

The sharpeft, flowest pains that earth can furnish, To all I wish-On Phædra-Guards, fecure him.

Enter Guards. Lycon carried off.

Ha, Thefeus!-Gods! my freezing blood congeals,

And all my thoughts, defigns, and words are loft. Enter Thefeus.

Thef. Doft thou at last repent! O lovely Phæ

dra!

At laft with equal ardour meet my vows?
O dear-bought bieffing!-Yet I'll not complain,
Since now my fharpeft grief is all o'erpaid,
And only heightens joy.Then hafte, my
charmer,

Let's feaft our famish'd fouls with amorous riot,
With fierceft blifs atone for our delay,
And in a moment love the age we've loft.
Phæd. Stand off; approach me, touch me not;
fly hence

Far as the diftant fkies, or deepest centre.
Thef. Amazement! death! Ye gods who guide
the world,

What can this mean? So fierce a detestation,
So ftrong abhorrence!-Speak, exquisite tor-

mentor !

Was it for this your fummons fill'd my foul
With eager raptures and tumultuous tranfports,
Ev'n painful joys, and agonies of blifs?
Did I for this obey my Phædra's call,
And fly with trembling hafte to meet her arms?
And am I thus receiv'd? O cruel Phædra!
Was it for this you rous'd my drowzy foul
From the dull lethargy of hopeless love ?
And doft thou only fhew thofe beauteous eyes
To wake defpair, and blaft me with their beans?
Phad. O, were that all to which the gods have
doom'd me!

But angry heaven has laid in ftore for Thefeus
Such perfect mischief, such transcendent woe,
That the black image fhocks my frighted foul,
And the words die on my reluctant tongue.

Thef. Fear not to speak it; that harmonious voice Will make the faddeft tale of forrow pleafing, And charm the grief it brings. Thus let me hear it,

Thus in thy fight; thus gazing on thofe eyes
I can fupport the utmott fpite of fate,
And ftand the rage of Heaven.-Approach,myfair.
Phad. Off, or I fly for ever from thy fight:
Shall I embrace the father of Hippolitus?

Thef. Forget the villain; drive him from your foul.

Phad. Can I forget, or drive him from my foul? O! he will still be prefent to my eyes; His words will ever echo in my ears; Still will he be the torture of my days, Bane of my life, and ruin of my glory.

Thef. And mine and all. O moft abandon'd villain !

O lafting scandal to our godlike race!
That could contrive a crime fo foul as inceft.
Phad. Inceft! O, name it not !
The very mention fhakes my inmost foul;
The gods are ftartled in their peaceful manfions,
And nature fickens at the fhocking found.
Thou brutal wretch, thou execrable monster!
To break thro' all the laws that early flow
From untaught reason, and distinguish man;
Mix like the fenfelefs herd with beftial luft,
Mother and fon prepofterously wicked;
To banish from thy foul the reverence due
To honour, nature, and the genial bed;
And injure one fo great, fo good as Thefeus!
Thef. To injure one fo great, fo good as
Phædra.

O flave to wrong fuch purity as thine;
Such dazzling brightness, fuch exalted virtue.
Phad. Virtue! all-feeing gods, ye know my
virtue.

Muft I fupport all this? O righteous Heaven!
Can't I yet speak? Reproach I could have borne,
Pointed his fatire's ftings, and edg'd his rage:
But to be prais'd!--Now, Minos, I defy thec;
Ev'n all thy dreadful magazines of pains,
Stones, furies, wheels, are flight to what I suffer,

And hell itself's relief.

Thef. What's hell to thee? What crimes couldft thou commit or what reproaches

Could innocence fo pure as Phædra's fear?
O! thou'rt the chafteft matron of thy fex,
The faireft pattern of excelling virtue.
Our latest annals fhall record thy glory,
The maid's example, and the matron's theme.
Each skilful artift fhall exprefs thy form
In animated gold. The threat'ning fword
Shall hang for ever o'er thy fnowy bofom;
Such heavenly beauty on thy face fhall bloom
As fhall almost excufe the villain's crime;
But yet that firmness, that unfhaken virtue,
As ftill fhall make the monster more detefted.
Where'er you pafs, the crowded way shall found
With joyful cries and endlefs acclamations.
And when afpiring bards in daring strains
Shall raise fome heavenly matron to the pow'rs,
They'll fay, She's great, the's true, fhe's chafte
as Phædra.

Phad. This might have been. But now, O

cruel ftars!

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