So new, so strange, impossible to thought,

Stuns my astonish'd soul, and ties my voice.

Thes. Then let this wake thee, this once-glorious sword,

With which thy father arm'd thy infant hand,
Not for this purpose. O abandon'd slave!
O early villain! most detested coward!
With this my instrument of youthful glory!

With this t'invade the spotless Phædra's honour!→
Phædra, my life, my better half, my queen!
That very Phædra, for whose just defence
The gods would claim thy sword.

Hip. Amazement! death!

Heav'ns! durst I raise the far-fam'd sword of Theseus Against his queen, against my mother's bosom ?

Thes. If not; declare when, where, and how you lost it?

How Phædra gain'd it ?-O all ye gods! he's silent. Why was it bar'd? whose bosom was it aim'd at? What meant thy arm advanc'd, thy glowing cheeks, Thy hand, heart, eyes? O villain! monstrous villain! Hip. Is there no way, no thought, no beam of

light?

beneath

"No clue to guide me thro' this gloomy maze,"
To clear my honour, yet preserve my faith?
"None, none, ye pow'rs! and must I groan
"This execrable hoard of foul dishonour?
"Must Theseus suffer such unheard of torture?
"Theseus, 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; The sword-O fatal vow!

Hear your wrong'd son.

Ensnaring oaths, and thou, rash thoughtless fool, "To bind thyself in voluntary chains; "Yet to thy fatal trust continue firm!

Beneath disgrace, though infamous, yet honest." Yet hear me, father: May the righteous gods Show'r all their curses on this wretched head; Oh, may they doom me→→→

Thes. Yes, the gods will doom thee.

The sword, the sword!Now swear, and call to
1
witness

Heav'n, hell, and earth, I mark it not from one
That breathes beneath such complicated guilt.

Hip. Was that like guilt, when with expanded arms sprang to meet you at your wish'd return? Does this

I

appear like guilt, when thus serene, With eyes erect, and visage unappall'd,

Fix'd on that awful face, I stand the charge, Amaz`d, not fearing? "Say, if I am guilty : "Where are the conscious looks, the face now pale, "Now flushing red, the down-cast haggar'd eyes, "Or fix'd on earth, or slowly rais'd to catch "A fearful view, then sunk again with horror?

"Thes. This is for raw, untaught, unfinish'd villains. "Thou in thy bloom hast reach'd th' abhor'd perfection:

"Thy even looks could wear a peaceful calin,

The beauteous stamp (O Heav'ns!) of faultless virtue,

"While thy foul heart contriv'd this horrid deed! "O harden'd fiend! I'll hear no more!

"Disturb thy soul, or ruffle thy smooth brow! "What, no remorse! no qualms! no pricking pangs! "No feeble struggle of rebelling honour!

"Oh! 'twas thy joy, thy secret hoard of bliss, "To dream, to ponder, act it o'er in thought; "To doat, to dwell on; as rejoicing misers

"Brood o'er their precious stores of secret gold.”

Hip. Must I not speak? Then say, unerring Heav'n, Why was I born with such a thirst of glory? Why did this morning dawn to my dishonour ? Why did not pitying fate, with ready death, Prevent the guilty day?

Thes. Guilty indeed.

Ev'n at the time you heard your father's death; "And such a father (O immortal gods!)

"As held thee dearer than his life and glory!

"When thou should'st rend the skies with clam'rous

grief,

"Beat thy sad breast, and tear thy starting hair;"
Then to my bed to force your impious way;
"With horrid lust t'insult my yet warm urn;"
Make me the scorn of hell, and sport for fiends!
These are the fun'ral honours paid to Theseus;
These are the sorrows, these the hallow'd rites,
To which you'd call your father's hov'ring spirit.

ISMENA enters.

Ism. Hear me, my lord, ere yet you fix his doom: [Turning to Theseus.

Hear one that comes to shield his injur'd honour,
And guard his life with hazard of her own.

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.

[Kneels.

Then know, mistaken prince, his honest soul
Could ne'er be sway'd by impious love to Phædra,
Since I before engag'd his early vows;

"With all my wiles subdu'd his struggling heart;
"For long his duty struggled with his love.”

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.

Take him away, and execute my orders.

Hip. Heav'ns! how that strikes me! how it wounds my soul

To think of your unutterable sorrows,

When you shall find Hippolitus was guiltless! Yet when you know the innocence you doom'd, When you shall mourn your son's unhappy fate, Oh, I beseech you, by the love you bore me, With my last words (my words will then prevail) Oh, for my sake forbear to touch your life, 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,