Let me
question
Oenone a second time.
Racine - Phaedra
Theseus
No, you'll conceal his offence in vain.
Your love blinds you in favour of the man. 1440
But I trust in sure irreproachable witnesses:
I've seen, I've seen true tears flow to excess.
Aricia
Take care, my Lord. Your unconquerable hand
From countless monsters, has freed the land:
But not all are destroyed, and you have spared 1445
One. . . your son, my Lord, forbids me to declare
What, knowing the respect he'd show to you,
I'd grieve him too much by daring to pursue.
I'll echo his discretion, and flee your presence,
So that I'm not required to break my silence. 1450
Act V Scene IV (Theseus)
Theseus
What is she thinking? 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?
