Panope
Her death has not calmed the Queen:
The pain in her troubled soul seemed to increase.
Her death has not calmed the Queen:
The pain in her troubled soul seemed to increase.
Racine - Phaedra
And what do these words hide,
Hesitantly begun, and then quickly denied?
Are they trying to blind me with a useless feint?
Are they conspiring to cause me inner pain?
But I myself, despite my firm severity 1455
What plaintive voice calls out within me?
A hidden pity afflicts me, stuns my mind.
Let me question Oenone a second time.
I wish to be clearer about this whole affair.
Guards! Have Oenone alone come to me here. 1460
Act V Scene V (Theseus, Panope)
Panope
I'm not aware what purpose the Queen intends,
My Lord. But I fear where these throes may end.
A mortal despair is printed on her face:
The pallor of death already leaves its trace.
Already, driven in shame from her side, 1465
Oenone has drowned herself in the ocean tide.
No one knows what made those wild thoughts arise:
But the waves have snatched her forever from our eyes.
Theseus
What is this I hear?
Panope
Her death has not calmed the Queen:
The pain in her troubled soul seemed to increase. 1470
From time to time, to soothe her hidden sorrow,
She holds her children, drenched in a tearful flow:
Then suddenly renouncing her maternal love,
Pushes them far away from her in disgust.
She takes irresolute steps, at random: 1475
Her wandering eyes recognising no one.
Three times she began to write, and changed her mind,
Then tore up the letter she'd begun to write, three times.
Deign to see her, my Lord, deign to help her.
Theseus
Oenone is dead: and you wish to die, Phaedra? 1480
Call back my son, to defend himself, so he
Might speak to me: I'll hear him: I am ready.
Don't precipitate your deadly gifts yet,
Neptune: I'd prefer if nothing were granted.
Perhaps I believed too much in false witnesses: 1485
Raised my cruel hand too soon for you to bless,
Ah! What despair would follow my answered prayer!
Act V Scene VI (Theseus, Theramenes)
Theseus
Theramenes, is that you? Is my son not there?
I entrusted him to you at a tender age.
But why the tears I see you shed today? 1490
What of my son?
Theramenes
O useless tenderness!
Hesitantly begun, and then quickly denied?
Are they trying to blind me with a useless feint?
Are they conspiring to cause me inner pain?
But I myself, despite my firm severity 1455
What plaintive voice calls out within me?
A hidden pity afflicts me, stuns my mind.
Let me question Oenone a second time.
I wish to be clearer about this whole affair.
Guards! Have Oenone alone come to me here. 1460
Act V Scene V (Theseus, Panope)
Panope
I'm not aware what purpose the Queen intends,
My Lord. But I fear where these throes may end.
A mortal despair is printed on her face:
The pallor of death already leaves its trace.
Already, driven in shame from her side, 1465
Oenone has drowned herself in the ocean tide.
No one knows what made those wild thoughts arise:
But the waves have snatched her forever from our eyes.
Theseus
What is this I hear?
Panope
Her death has not calmed the Queen:
The pain in her troubled soul seemed to increase. 1470
From time to time, to soothe her hidden sorrow,
She holds her children, drenched in a tearful flow:
Then suddenly renouncing her maternal love,
Pushes them far away from her in disgust.
She takes irresolute steps, at random: 1475
Her wandering eyes recognising no one.
Three times she began to write, and changed her mind,
Then tore up the letter she'd begun to write, three times.
Deign to see her, my Lord, deign to help her.
Theseus
Oenone is dead: and you wish to die, Phaedra? 1480
Call back my son, to defend himself, so he
Might speak to me: I'll hear him: I am ready.
Don't precipitate your deadly gifts yet,
Neptune: I'd prefer if nothing were granted.
Perhaps I believed too much in false witnesses: 1485
Raised my cruel hand too soon for you to bless,
Ah! What despair would follow my answered prayer!
Act V Scene VI (Theseus, Theramenes)
Theseus
Theramenes, is that you? Is my son not there?
I entrusted him to you at a tender age.
But why the tears I see you shed today? 1490
What of my son?
Theramenes
O useless tenderness!
