Hippolytus/The Bacchae | Page 9

why hast Thou made this gleaming snare,
Woman, to dog us on the happy earth? Was it Thy will to make Man,
why his birth Through Love and Woman? Could we not have rolled
Our store of prayer and offering, royal gold Silver and weight of bronze
before Thy feet, And bought of God new child souls, as were meet For
each man's sacrifice, and dwelt in homes Free, where nor Love nor
Woman goes and comes How, is that daughter not a bane confessed,
Whom her own sire sends forth--(He knows her best!)-- And, will some
man but take her, pays a dower! And he, poor fool, takes home the
poison-flower; Laughs to hang jewels on the deadly thing He joys in;
labours for her robe-wearing, Till wealth and peace are dead. He smarts
the less In whose high seat is set a Nothingness, A woman naught
availing. Worst of all The wise deep-thoughted! Never in my hall May
she sit throned who thinks and waits and sighs! For Cypris breeds most
evil in the wise, And least in her whose heart has naught within; For
puny wit can work but puny sin. Why do we let their handmaids pass
the gate? Wild beasts were best, voiceless and fanged, to wait About
their rooms, that they might speak with none, Nor ever hear one
answering human tone! But now dark women in still chambers lay
Plans that creep out into light of day On handmaids' lips--[Turning to
the NURSE.] As thine accursèd head Braved the high honour of my
Father's bed. And came to traffic ... Our white torrent's spray Shall
drench mine ears to wash those words away! And couldst thou dream
that I ...? I feel impure Still at the very hearing! Know for sure, Woman,
naught but mine honour saves ye both. Hadst thou not trapped me with
that guileful oath, No power had held me secret till the King Knew all!
But now, while he is journeying, I too will go my ways and make no
sound. And when he comes again, I shall be found Beside him, silent,
watching with what grace Thou and thy mistress shall greet him face to
face! Then shall I have the taste of it, and know What woman's guile
is.--Woe upon you, woe! How can I too much hate you, while the ill Ye
work upon the world grows deadlier still? Too much? Make woman

pure, and wild Love tame, Or let me cry for ever on their shame! [He
goes off in fury to the left. PHAEDRA still cowering in her place
begins to sob.]
PHAEDRA Sad, sad and evil-starred is Woman's state. What shelter
now is left or guard? What spell to loose the iron knot of fate? And this
thing, O my God, O thou sweet Sunlight, is but my desert! I cannot fly
before the avenging rod Falls, cannot hide my hurt. What help, O ye
who love me, can come near, What god or man appear, To aid a thing
so evil and so lost? Lost, for this anguish presses, soon or late, To that
swift river that no life hath crossed. No woman ever lived so desolate!
LEADER OF THE CHORUS Ah me, the time for deeds is gone; the
boast Proved vain that spake thine handmaid; and all lost! [At these
words PHAEDRA suddenly remembers the NURSE, who is cowering
silently where HIPPOLYTUS _had thrown her from him. She turns
upon her_.]
PHAEDRA O wicked, wicked, wicked! Murderess heart To them that
loved thee! Hast thou played thy part? Am I enough trod down? May
Zeus, my sire, Blast and uproot thee! Stab thee dead with fire! Said I
not--Knew I not thine heart?--to name To no one soul this that is now
my shame? And thou couldst not be silent! So no more I die in honour.
But enough; a store Of new words must be spoke and new things
thought. This man's whole being to one blade is wrought Of rage
against me. Even now he speeds To abase me to the King with thy
misdeeds; Tell Pittheus; fill the land with talk of sin! Cursèd be thou,
and whoso else leaps in To bring bad aid to friends that want it not.
[The NURSE _has raised herself, and faces_ PHAEDRA, downcast but
calm.]
NURSE Mistress, thou blamest me; and all thy lot So bitter sore is, and
the sting so wild, I bear with all. Yet, if I would, my Child, I have mine
answer, couldst thou hearken aught. I nursed thee, and I love thee; and I
sought Only some balm to heal thy deep despair, And found--not what
I sought for. Else I were Wise, and thy friend, and good, had all sped
right. So fares it