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do offer up my prayer to thy image； lady Cypris； in such words as it
becomes a slave to use。 But thou should'st pardon all； who； in youth's
impetuous heat； speak idle words of thee； make as though thou
hearest not； for gods must needs be wiser than the sons of men。
（The LEADER goes into the palace。 The CHORUS OF
TROEZENIAN WOMEN enters。）
CHORUS （singing）
strophe 1
A rock there is； where； as they say； the ocean dew distils； and
from its beetling brow it pours a copious stream for pitchers to be
dipped therein； 'twas here I had a friend washing robes of purple in
the trickling stream； and she was spreading them out on the face of
warm sunny rock； from her I had the tidings； first of all； that my
mistress…
antistrophe 1
Was wasting on the bed of sickness； pent within her house； a
thin veil o'ershadowing her head of golden hair。 And this is the third
day I hear that she hath closed her lovely lips and denied her
chaste body all sustenance； eager to hide her suffering and reach
death's cheerless bourn。
strophe 2
Maiden； thou must be possessed； by Pan made frantic or by
Hecate； or by the Corybantes dread； and Cybele the mountain mother。 Or
maybe thou hast sinned against Dictynna； huntress…queen； and art
wasting for thy guilt in sacrifice unoffered。 For she doth range
o'er lakes' expanse and past the bounds of earth upon the ocean's
tossing billows。
antistrophe 2
Or doth some rival in thy house beguile thy lord； the captain of
Erechtheus' sons； that hero nobly born； to secret amours hid from
thee？ Or hath some mariner sailing hither from Crete reached this port
that sailors love； with evil tidings for our queen； and she with
sorrow for her grievous fate is to her bed confined？
epode
Yea； and oft o'er woman's wayward nature settles a feeling of
miserable helplessness； arising from pains of child…birth or of
passionate desire。 I； too； have felt at times this sharp thrill
shoot through me； but I would cry to Artemis； queen of archery； who
comes from heaven to aid us in our travail； and thanks to heaven's
grace she ever comes at my call with welcome help。 Look！ where the
aged nurse is bringing her forth from the house before the door； while
on her brow the cloud of gloom is deepening。 My soul longs to learn
what is her grief； the canker that is wasting our queen's fading
charms。
（PHAEDRA is led out and placed upon a couch by the NURSE and
attendants。 The following lines between the NURSE and PHAEDRA are
chanted。）
NURSE
O； the ills of mortal men！ the cruel diseases they endure！ What
can I do for thee？ from what refrain？ Here is the bright sunlight；
here the azure sky； lo！ we have brought thee on thy bed of sickness
without the palace； for all thy talk was of coming hither； but soon
back to thy chamber wilt thou hurry。 Disappointment follows fast
with thee； thou hast no joy in aught for long； the present has no
power to please； on something absent next thy heart is set。 Better
be sick than tend the sick； the first is but a single ill； the last
unites mental grief with manual toil。 Man's whole life is full of
anguish； no respite from his woes he finds； but if there is aught to
love beyond this life； night's dark pall doth wrap it round。 And so we
show our mad love of this life because its light is shed on earth； and
because we know no other； and have naught revealed to us of all our
earth may hide； and trusting to fables we drift at random。
PHAEDRA （wildly）
Lift my body； raise my head！ My limbs are all unstrung； kind
friends。 O handmaids； lift my arms； my shapely arms。 The tire on my
head is too heavy for me to wear； away with it； and let my tresses
o'er my shoulders fall。
Be of good heart； dear child； toss not so wildly to and fro。 Lie
still； be brave； so wilt thou find thy sickness easier to bear；
suffering for mortals is nature's iron law。
PHAEDRA
Ah！ would I could draw a draught of water pure from some dew…fed
spring； and lay me down to rest in the grassy meadow 'neath the
poplar's shade！
NURSE
My child； what wild speech is this？ O say not such things in
public； wild whirling words of frenzy bred！
PHAEDRA
Away to the mountain take me！ to the wood； to the pine…trees
will go； where hounds pursue the prey； hard on the scent of dappled
fawns。 Ye gods！ what joy to hark them on； to grasp the barbed dart； to
poise Thessalian hunting…spears close to my golden hair； then let them
fly。
NURSE
Why； why； my child； these anxious cares？ What hast thou to do with
the chase？ Why so eager for the flowing spring； when hard by these
towers stands a hill well watered； whence thou may'st freely draw？
PHAEDRA
O Artemis； who watchest o'er sea…beat Limna and the race…course
thundering to the horse's hoofs； would I were upon thy plains
curbing Venetian steeds！
NURSE
Why betray thy frenzy in these wild whirling words？ Now thou
wert for hasting hence to the hills away to hunt wild beasts； and
now thy yearning is to drive the steed over the waveless sands。 This
needs a cunning seer to say what god it is that reins thee from the
course； distracting thy senses； child。
PHAEDRA （more sanely）
Ah me！ alas！ what have I done？ Whither have I strayed； my senses
leaving？ Mad； mad！ stricken by some demon's curse！ Woe is me！ Cover my
head again； nurse。 Shame fills me for the words I have spoken。 Hide me
then； from my eyes the tear…drops stream； and for very shame I turn
them away。 'Tis painful coming to one's senses again； and madness；
evil though it be； has this advantage； that one has no knowledge of
reason's overthrow。
NURSE
There then I cover thee； but when will death hide my body in the
grave？ Many a lesson length of days is teaching me。 Yea； mortal men
should pledge themselves to moderate friendships only； not to such
as reach the very heart's core； affection's ties should be light
upon them to let them slip or draw them tight。 For one poor heart to
grieve for twain； as I do for my mistress； is a burden sore to bear。
Men say that too engrossing pursuits in life more oft cause
disappointment than pleasure； and too oft are foes to health。
Wherefore do not praise excess so much as moderation； and with me wise
men will agree。
（PHAEDRA lies back upon the couch。）
LEADER OF THE CHORUS （speaking）
O aged dame； faithful nurse of Phaedra； our queen； we see her
sorry plight； but what it is that ails her we cannot discern； so
fain would learn of thee and hear thy opinion。
NURSE
I question her； but am no wiser； for she will not answer。