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Not for this purpofe. O abandon'd slave!
O early villain, moft detefted coward!
With this, my inftrument of youthful glory,
With this t'invade the spotlef's Phædra's honour!
Phædra, my life, my better half, my queen!
That very Phædra! for whofe juft defence
The gods would claim thy fword.

Hip. Amazement ! death!

Heavens durft I raise the far-fam'd fword of Thefeus

Against his queen, against my mother's bofom? Thef. If not, declare when, where, and how you loft it?

How Phædragain'd it :-O all ye gods, he's filent! 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! monftrous villain !

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 difhonour?
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,
Entharing oaths-and thou, rafh thoughtless fool,
To bind thyself 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 word, 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 unappail'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 Hufhing 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

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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 skies with clam'rous
grief,

Beat thy fad breast, 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 Ifmena.

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dience,

And juftined by crimes? What, love my foe!
Love one defcended from a race of tyrants,
Whofe blood yet recks on my avenging
fword!

I'm curft each moment I delay thy fatc.
Hafte to the fhades, and tell the happy Pallas
Ifinena'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 hilffing
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 lealt, like Thefeus' fon.
Take him away, and execute my orders.

Hip. Heavens! how that ftrikes me! how it
wounds my foul

To think of your unutterable forrows,
When you fhall find Hippolitus was guiltlefs
Yet when you know the innocence you doom'd,
When you fhall mourn your fon's unhappy fate,
O, I beseech 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 breaft, 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 ftill, but not deplor'd.

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

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

Thefeus.

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

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

Was that confent? O fenfelefs politician!

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

fens,

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 fhare his fate.

O awful Thefeus! yet revoke his doom.
See, fee the very minifters of death,
Tho' bred to blood, yet fhrink, and wifh to fave
him.

Thef. Slaves, villains, drag her away.

Im. O, tear ine, cut me, till my fever'd limbs Grow to my lord, and fhare the pains he futlers. 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, despair,
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 phrenfy fhall be call'd my crime.
What then is thine, thou cool, delib'rate villain,
Thou wife, fore-thinking, weighing politician!

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

At its own found, and horror fhook 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.

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

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See, his rich blood in purple torrents flows,
And Nature fallies in unbidden groans !
Now mortal pangs diftort his lovely form,
His rofy beauties fade, his starry eyes
Now darkling fwim, and fix their clofing beams:
Now in fhort gafps his lab'ring spirit heaves,
And weakly flutters on his falt'ring tongue,
And ftruggles into found. Hear, monter, 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

Shall find some 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?

Phæd. Referv'd to all

The harpeft, flowest pains that earth can furnish,
To all I wifh- -on Phædra-Guards, fecure

him.

Enter Guards. Lycon carried of. Ha, Thefeus!-Gods! my freezing blood congeals,

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

Enter Thefeus.

Thef. Doft thou at laft repent? O lovely Phæ

dra!

At laft with equal ardour meet my vows?
O dear-bought bleffing-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 famifh'd fouls with amorous riot,
With fierceft blifs atone for our delay,
And in a moment love the age we 've loft.

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 !

Olafting fcandal to our godlike race!
That could contrive a crime fo foul as inceft.
Phed. Inceft! O, name it not !
The very mention fhakes my inmost soul;
The gods are ftartled in their peaceful manfions,
And nature fickens at the shocking found.
Thou brutal wretch, thou execrable monster!
To break thro' all the laws that early flow
From untaught reafon, and diftinguish man;
Mix like the fenfelefs herd with beftial luft,
Mother and fon prepofterously wicked;
To banith 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 brightnefs, fuch exalted virtue.
Phad. Virtue! all-feeing gods, ye know my
virtue.

Muft I fupport all this? O righteous Heaven!
Can't I yet peak? Reproach I could have
borne,

Phed. Stand off; approach me, touch me not; Pointed his fatire's ftings, and edg'd his rage :

fly hence

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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 drowsy foul
From the dull lethargy of hopeless love?
And doft thou only fhew thofe beauteous
To wake despair, and blaft me with their beams
Phæd. O, were that all to which the gods have
doom'd me!

eyes

But angry Heaven has laid in ftore for Thefeus
Such perfect mifchief, fuch tranfcendent woe,
That the black image fhocks my frighted foul,
And the words die on my reluctant tongue.

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

Thus in thy fight; thus gazing on those eyes
I can fupport the utmost Ipite 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?

But to be prais'd!--Now, Minos, I defy thee;
Ev'n all thy dreadful magazines of pains,
Stones, furies, wheels, are flight to what I fuffer,
And hell itfelf 's relief.

Thef. What's hell to thee?
What crimes couldst thou commit? or what re
proaches

Could innocence fo pure as Phædra's fear?
O! thou 'rt the chafteft matron of thy fex,
The fairest pattern of excelling virtue.
Our latest annals thall 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 almott excufe the villain's crime;
But yet that firmnefs, that unfhaken virtue,
As ftill fhall make the monster more detefted.
Where'er you pafs, the crowded way fhall found
With joyful cries and endless acclamations.
And when afpiring bards in daring strains
Shall raife fome heavenly matron to the pow'rs,
They'll fay, She's great, the 's true, the 's chafte
as Phædra.
But now, O

Phad. This might have been.
cruel ftars!

Now, as I pafs, the crowded way fhall found
With hifling fcorn, and murm'ring deteftation.
The latest annals fhall record my thame;
And when th' avenging Mufe with pointed rage
Would fink fome impious woman down to hell,

She 'll

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For what the nations fhall adore my juftice,
A villain's death?

Phad. Hippolitus a villain!

O, he was all his godlike fire could with,

The pride of Thefeus, and the hope of Crete.

Nor did the braveft of his godlike race

With beftial paffion woo'd your loathing fon:
And, when denied, with impious accufation
Sullied the loftre of his fhining honour;
Of my own crimes accus'd the faultiels youth,
And with enfnaring wiles deftroy'd that virtue
I tried in vain to fake.

Thef. Is he then guiltlefs?

Guiltiefs then what art thou? and, Ojuft Heaven! What a detefted parricide is Thefeus!

Phal. What am I? what indeed, but one more black

Than earth or hell e'er bore! O horrid mixture
Of crimes and woes, of parricide and incest,
Perjury, murder, to arm the erring father
Against the guiltlefs fon! O impious Lycon,
In what a hell of woes thy arts have plung'd me!
Thef Lycon - Here, guards.-O most aban-
don'd villain !

Secure him, feize him, drag him piecemeal hither.
Enter Guards.

Gua. Who has, my lord, incurr'd your high

difpleasure ?

Thef. Who can it be, ye gods, but perjur'd

Lycon ?

Who can infpire fuch forms of rage, but Lycon? Where has my fword left one fo black, but Ly

con?

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Incestuous fury execrable murd’refs !

Is there revenge on earth, or pain in hell? Can art invent, or boiling rage fuggeft,

Tread with such early hopes the paths of honour.Ev'n endless torture, which thou shalt not fuffer? Pled. And is there aught on earth I would not fuffer?

Thef. What can this mean? declare, ambigu-|

ous Phædra,

Say whence these shifting gufts of clashing, were there vengeance equal to my crimes,

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Thou needit not claim it, most unhappy youth,
From any hands but mine; t' avenge thy fate
I'd court the fiercest pains, and fue for tortures,
And Phædra's fuff rings fhould atone for thine
Ev'n now I fall a victim to thy wrongs;
Ev'n now a fatal draught works out my foul;
Ev'n now it curdles in my fhrinking veins
The lazy blood, and freezes at my heart.

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Of fordid rabbles, and infulting crowds; Give me but life, and make that life moft wretched.

Phad. Art thou so base, so spiritless a flave? Not fo the lovely youth thy arts have ruin'd, Not fo he bore the fate to which you doom'd him. Thef. O abject villain !-Yet it gives me joy To fee the fears that thake thy guilty foul, Enhance the crimes, and antedate thy woes. O, how thou 'lt howl thy fearful foul away! While laughing crowds thall echo to thy cries, And make thy pains their fport. Hafte, hence, away with him.

Drag him to all the torments earth can furnish; Let him be rack'd and gath'd, impal'd alive; Then let the mangled monster, fix'd on high, Grin o'er the fhouting crowds, and glut their

vengeance.

Hence! away!

[Lycon borne of.

And is this all and art thou not appeas'd?
Will this atone for poor Hippolitus?

O ungorg'd appetite! O rav'nous thirst
Of a fon's blood! what, not a day, a moment?
Pheed. A day, a moment! O, thou fhouldst
have flaid

Years, ages, all the round of circling time,
Ere touch the life of that confummate youth.
Thef. And yet with joy I flew to his deftruction,
Boafted his fate, and triumph'd in his ruin.
Not this I promis'd to his dying mother,
When in her mortal pangs the fighing gave me
The last cold kiffes from her trembling lips,
Her laft words now Faltering from her tongue,
And reach'd her feeble wand'ring hands to mine:
When her laft breath now quiv'ring at her mouth
Implor'd my goodnefs to her lovely fon,
To her Hippolitus. He, alas! defcends
An early victim to the lazy fhades,

(O Heaven and earth') by Thefeus doom'd defcends.

Phad. He's doom'd by Thefeus, but accus'd
by Phædra,

By Phaedra's madness, and by Lycon's hatred.
Yet with my life I expiate my phrenfy,
And die for thee my headlong rage deftroy'd.
Thee I purfue, O great ill-fated youth!
Pursue thee ftill, but now with chalte defires;
Tuce thro' the difmal wafte of gloomy death,
Thee thro' the glimm'ring dawn, and pu er day,
Tho' all the Elyfian plains- O righteous

Minos!

Elyfian plains! There he and his Imena
Shall fport for ever, fhall for ever drink
Immortal love; while I far off thail howl
In lonely plains, while all the blacke ghots
Shrink from the baleful fight of one more mon-
ftrous

And more accurft than they.
Thef. I too muft die;

I too muft once more fee the burning fhore
Of livid Acheron and biack Cocytus,
Whence no Alcides will releafe me now.
Pbad. Then why this itay? Come on, let's
plunge together.

See, Hell fers wide its adamantine gates:

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In horrid wreaths, and hifs around her head!
Now, now the drags me to the bar of Minos:
See how the awful judges of the dead
Look steadfast hate, and hor.ible difmay!
See, Minos turns away his loathing eyes;
Rage chokes his ftruggling words; the fatal urn
Drops from his trembling hand. O all ye gods!
What, Lycon here O execrable villain!
Then am I ftill on earth? By Hell I am,
A fury now, a fcourge preserv'd for Lycon.
See, the juft beings offer to my vengeance
That impious flave. Now, Lycon, for revenge:
Thanks, Heaven, 'tis here. I 'il ftrike it to his
heart.

[Miftaking Thefeus for Lycon, offers to flab him. Gua. Heavens! 'tis your lord.

Phed. My lord! O equal Heaven! Muft each portentous moment rife in crimes, And fallying life go off in parricide? This glimpfe of reafon fome indulgent God Hath granted me to clofe the fcene of guilt. Then trust not thy flow drugs. Thus fure of death

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Nor do I hope from thee forgiveness, Thefeus;
But yet amid my crimes remember still,
That my offence was not my nature's fault.
The wrath of Venus, which purfues our race,
First kindled in my breaft thofe guilty fiies.
Refiftlefs goddess, I confefs thy pow'r,
To thee I make libation of my blood.
Venus, avert thy hate-may wretched Phædra
Prove the laft victim of her fated line!
1 Dies.
Thef. At length fhe 's quiet, the 's dead
And now earth bears not such a wretch as
Thefeus.

Yet I'll obey Hippolitus, and live :
Then to the wars; and as the Corybantines,
With clathing thields and braying trumpets,

drown'd

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