Hippolytus; The Bacchae Part 3

NURSE Hippolytus, say'st thou?

PHAEDRA (_again wrapping her face in the veil_) Nay, 'twas thou, not I!

[PHAEDRA _sinks back on the couch and covers her face again.

The_ NURSE _starts violently from her and walks up and down._]

NURSE O G.o.d! what wilt thou say, Child? Wouldst thou try To kill me?--Oh, 'tis more than I can bear; Women. I will no more of it, this glare Of hated day, this s.h.i.+ning of the sky.

I will fling down my body, and let it lie Till life be gone!

Women, G.o.d rest with you, My works are over! For the pure and true Are forced to evil, against their own heart's vow, And love it!

[_She suddenly sees the Statue of_ CYPRIS, _and stands with her eyes riveted upon it._]

Ah, Cyprian! No G.o.d art thou, But more than G.o.d, and greater, that hath thrust Me and my queen and all our house to dust!

[_She throws herself on the ground close to the statue._]

CHORUS

_Some Women_ O Women, have ye heard? Nay, dare ye hear The desolate cry of the young Queen's 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, G.o.d, 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 G.o.ddess 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 she swoops, no strength can stem Cypris; and if man yields him, she is sweet; But is he proud and stubborn? From his feet She lifts him, and--how think you?--flings to scorn!

She ranges with the stars of eve and morn, She wanders in the heaving of the sea, And all life lives from her.--Aye, this is she That sows Love's seed and brings Love's fruit to birth; And great Love's brethren are all we on earth!

Nay, they who con grey books of ancient days Or dwell among the Muses, tell--and praise-- How Zeus himself once yearned for Semele; How maiden Eos in her radiancy Swept Kephalos to heaven away, away, For sore love's sake. And there they dwell, men say, And fear not, fret not; for a thing too stern Hath met and crushed them!

And must thou, then, turn And struggle? Sprang there from thy father's blood Thy little soul a11 lonely? Or the G.o.d That rules thee, is he other than our G.o.ds?

Nay, yield thee to men's ways, and kiss their rods!

How many, deem'st thou, of men good and wise Know their own home's blot, and avert their eyes?

How many fathers, when a son has strayed And toiled beneath the Cyprian, bring him aid, Not chiding? And man's wisdom e'er hath been To keep what is not good to see, unseen!

A straight and perfect life is not for man; Nay, in a shut house, let him, if he can, 'Mid sheltered rooms, make all lines true. But here, Out in the wide sea fallen, and full of fear, Hopest thou so easily to swim to land?

Canst thou but set thine ill days on one hand And more good days on the other, verily, O child of woman, life is well with thee!

[_She pauses, and then draws nearer to_ PHAEDRA.]

Nay, dear my daughter, cease thine evil mind, Cease thy fierce pride! For pride it is, and blind, To seek to outpa.s.s G.o.ds!--Love on and dare: A G.o.d hath willed it! And, since pain is there, Make the pain sleep! Songs are there to bring calm, And magic words. And I shall find the balm, Be sure, to heal thee. Else in sore dismay Were men, could not we women find our way!

LEADER OF THE CHORUS Help is there, Queen, in all this woman says, To ease thy suffering. But 'tis thee I praise; Albeit that praise is harder to thine ear Than all her chiding was, and bitterer!

PHAEDRA Oh, this it is hath flung to dogs and birds Men's lives and homes and cities-fair false word!

Oh, why speak things to please our ears? We crave Not that. Tis honour, honour, we must save!

NURSE Why prate so proud! 'Tis no words, brave nor base Thou cravest; 'tis a man's arms!

[PHAEDRA _moves indignantly_.]

Up and face The truth of what thou art, and name it straight!

Were not thy life thrown open here for Fate To beat on; hadst thou been a woman pure Or wise or strong; never had I for lure Of joy nor heartache led thee on to this!

But when a whole life one great battle is, To win or lose--no man can blame me then.

PHAEDRA Shame on thee! Lock those lips, and ne'er again Let word nor thought so foul have harbour there!

NURSE Foul, if thou wilt: but better than the fair For thee and me. And better, too, the deed Behind them, if it save thee in thy need, Than that word Honour thou wilt die to win!

PHAEDRA Nay, in G.o.d's name,--such wisdom and such sin Are all about thy lips!--urge me no more.

For all the soul within me is wrought o'er By Love; and if thou speak and speak, I may Be spent, and drift where now I shrink away.

NURSE Well, if thou wilt!--'Twere best never to err, But, having erred, to take a counsellor Is second.--Mark me now. I have within love-philtres, to make peace where storm hath been, That, with no shame, no scathe of mind, shall save Thy life from anguish; wilt but thou be brave!

[_To herself, rejecting_.]

Ah, but from him, the well-beloved, some sign We need, or word, or raiment's hem, to twine Amid the charm, and one spell knit from twain.

PHAEDRA Is it a potion or a salve? Be plain.

NURSE Who knows? Seek to be helped, Child, not to know.

PHAEDRA Why art thou ever subtle? I dread thee, so.

NURSE Thou wouldst dread everything!--What dost thou dread?

PHAEDRA Least to his ear some word be whispered.

NURSE Let be, Child! I will make all well with thee!