Hippolytus/The Bacchae | Page 6

misery?

A Woman My Queen, I love thee dear, Yet liefer were I dead than
framed like thee.
Others Woe, woe to me for this thy bitter bane, Surely the food man
feeds upon is pain!
Others How wilt thou bear thee through this livelong day, Lost, and
thine evil naked to the light? Strange things are close upon us--who
shall say How strange?--save one thing that is plain to sight, The stroke
of the Cyprian and the fall thereof On thee, thou child of the Isle of
fearful Love!
[PHAEDRA _during this has risen from the couch and comes forward
collectedly. As she speaks the_ NURSE _gradually rouses herself, and
listens more calmly._]
PHAEDRA O Women, dwellers in this portal-seat Of Pelops' land,
gazing towards my Crete, How oft, in other days than these, have I
Through night's long hours thought of man's misery, And how this life
is wrecked! And, to mine eyes, Not in man's knowledge, not in wisdom,
lies The lack that makes for sorrow. Nay, we scan And know the
right--for wit hath many a man-- But will not to the last end strive and
serve. For some grow too soon weary, and some swerve To other paths,
setting before the Right The diverse far-off image of Delight: And
many are delights beneath the sun! Long hours of converse; and to sit
alone Musing--a deadly happiness!--and Shame: Though two things
there be hidden in one name, And Shame can be slow poison if it will;
This is the truth I saw then, and see still; Nor is there any magic that
can stain That white truth for me, or make me blind again. Come, I will
show thee how my spirit hath moved. When the first stab came, and I
knew I loved, I cast about how best to face mine ill. And the first
thought that came, was to be still And hide my sickness.--For no trust
there is In man's tongue, that so well admonishes And counsels and
betrays, and waxes fat With griefs of its own gathering!--After that I
would my madness bravely bear, and try To conquer by mine own
heart's purity. My third mind, when these two availed me naught To
quell love was to die-- [_Motion of protest among the Women._] --the
best, best thought-- --Gainsay me not--of all that man can say! I would

not have mine honour hidden away; Why should I have my shame
before men's eyes Kept living? And I knew, in deadly wise, Shame was
the deed and shame the suffering; And I a woman, too, to face the thing,
Despised of all!
Oh, utterly accurst Be she of women, whoso dared the first To cast her
honour out to a strange man! 'Twas in some great house, surely, that
began This plague upon us; then the baser kind, When the good led
towards evil, followed blind And joyous! Cursed be they whose lips are
clean And wise and seemly, but their hearts within Rank with bad
daring! How can they, O Thou That walkest on the waves, great
Cyprian, how Smile in their husbands' faces, and not fall, Not cower
before the Darkness that knows all, Aye, dread the dead still chambers,
lest one day The stones find voice, and all be finished! Nay, Friends,
'tis for this I die; lest I stand there Having shamed my husband and the
babes I bare. In ancient Athens they shall some day dwell, My babes,
free men, free-spoken, honourable,
EURIPIDES And when one asks their mother, proud of me! For, oh, it
cows a man, though bold he be, To know a mother's or a father's sin.
'Tis written, one way is there, one, to win This life's race, could man
keep it from his birth, A true clean spirit. And through all this earth To
every false man, that hour comes apace When Time holds up a mirror
to his face, And girl-like, marvelling, there he stares to see How foul
his heart! Be it not so with me!
LEADER OF CHORUS Ah, God, how sweet is virtue, and how wise,
And honour its due meed in all men's eyes!
NURSE (_who has now risen and recovered herself_) Mistress, a sharp
swift terror struck me low A moment since, hearing of this thy woe.
But now--I was a coward! And men say Our second thought the wiser
is alway. This is no monstrous thing; no grief too dire To meet with
quiet thinking. In her ire A most strong goddess hath swept down on
thee. Thou lovest. Is that so strange? Many there be Beside thee! ...
And because thou lovest, wilt fall And die! And must all lovers die,
then? All That are or shall be? A blithe law for them! Nay, when in
might