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Chorus
O king, I do conjure thee, call back that prayer; hereafter thou wilt know thy error. Hear, I pray.
O king, I do conjure thee, call back that prayer; hereafter thou wilt know thy error. Hear, I pray.
Theseus
Impossible! Moreover I will banish him from this land, and by one of two fates shall he be struck down;
either Poseidon, out of respect to my prayer, will cast his dead body into the house of Hades; or exiled from this land, a wanderer to some foreign shore, shall he eke out a life of misery.
895
Impossible! Moreover I will banish him from this land, and by one of two fates shall he be struck down;
either Poseidon, out of respect to my prayer, will cast his dead body into the house of Hades; or exiled from this land, a wanderer to some foreign shore, shall he eke out a life of misery.
895
Chorus
Lo! where himself doth come, thy son Hippolytus, in good time;
dismiss thy hurtful rage, King Theseus, and bethink thee what is best for thy family.
900
Lo! where himself doth come, thy son Hippolytus, in good time;
dismiss thy hurtful rage, King Theseus, and bethink thee what is best for thy family.
900
Hippolytus
I heard thy voice, father, and hasted to come hither; yet know I not the cause of thy present
1
sorrow, but would fain learn of thee.
Ha! what is this? thy wife a corpse I see; this is passing strange; ’twas but now I left her; a moment since she looked upon the light.
905
How came she thus? the manner of her death?
this would I learn of thee, father. Art dumb? silence availeth not in trouble; nay, for the heart that fain would know all must show its curiosity even in sorrow’s hour. Be sure it is not right, father,
910
to hide misfortunes from those who love, ay, more than love thee.
915
I heard thy voice, father, and hasted to come hither; yet know I not the cause of thy present
1
sorrow, but would fain learn of thee.
Ha! what is this? thy wife a corpse I see; this is passing strange; ’twas but now I left her; a moment since she looked upon the light.
905
How came she thus? the manner of her death?
this would I learn of thee, father. Art dumb? silence availeth not in trouble; nay, for the heart that fain would know all must show its curiosity even in sorrow’s hour. Be sure it is not right, father,
910
to hide misfortunes from those who love, ay, more than love thee.
915
Theseus
O ye sons of men, victims of a thousand idle errors, why teach your countless crafts, why scheme and seek to find a way for everything, while one thing ye know not nor ever yet have made your prize,
a way to teach them wisdom whose souls are void of sense?
920
O ye sons of men, victims of a thousand idle errors, why teach your countless crafts, why scheme and seek to find a way for everything, while one thing ye know not nor ever yet have made your prize,
a way to teach them wisdom whose souls are void of sense?
920
Hippolytus
A very master in his craft the man, who can force fools to be wise! But these ill-timed subtleties of thine, father, make me fear thy tongue is running riot through trouble.
A very master in his craft the man, who can force fools to be wise! But these ill-timed subtleties of thine, father, make me fear thy tongue is running riot through trouble.
Theseus
Fie upon thee! man needs should have some certain test set up to try his friends, some touchstone of their hearts, to know each friend whether he be true or false; all men should have two voices, one the voice of honesty, expediency’s the other,
925
so would honesty confute its knavish opposite, and then we could not be deceived.
930
Fie upon thee! man needs should have some certain test set up to try his friends, some touchstone of their hearts, to know each friend whether he be true or false; all men should have two voices, one the voice of honesty, expediency’s the other,
925
so would honesty confute its knavish opposite, and then we could not be deceived.
930
Hippolytus
Say, hath some friend been slandering me and hath he still thine ear? am I, though guiltless, banned? I am amazed indeed;
thy random, frantic words fill me with wild alarm.
935
Say, hath some friend been slandering me and hath he still thine ear? am I, though guiltless, banned? I am amazed indeed;
thy random, frantic words fill me with wild alarm.
935
Hippolytus. Euripides. Edward P. Coleridge (Translator). London. 1906.
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