She's torn from her bed by
sorrowful
unquiet.
Racine - Phaedra
The forests ring out less often to our cries.
Filled with secret fire, there's heaviness in your eyes.
There's no longer any doubt: you love, you burn: 135
You are dying of an illness you disguise in turn.
Or has lovely Aricia pleased you, rather?
Hippolytus
Theramenes, I am leaving, to seek my father.
Theramenes
Will you not see Phaedra again, before you go,
My lord?
Hippolytus
That's my intent: you may tell her so. 140
I'll see her, since my duty demands of it me.
(Oenone enters. )
But what new trouble disturbs dear Oenone?
Act I Scene II (Hippolytus, Oenone, Theramenes)
Oenone
Alas! My lord, what misfortune could equal mine?
The Queen is near to the ending of her life.
I've kept watch over her, in vain, day and night: 145
She'll die in my arms of this illness that she hides.
Eternal disorder reigns now in her spirit.
She's torn from her bed by sorrowful unquiet.
She wishes to see the light: yet with deep sadness
Orders the world outside to be dismissed. . . 150
She is here.
Hippolyte
Enough: I'll leave this place to her,
And show my odious face to her no longer.
Act I Scene III (Phaedra, Oenone)
Phaedra
Let's go no further. Stay, dear Oenone.
I can't support myself: my strength has left me.
My eyes are dazzled, on seeing the light of day, 155
My knees, trembling beneath me, have given way.
Alas!
(She sits down. )
Oenone
All-powerful gods! If tears could but appease.
Phaedra
How these vain ornaments, these veils burden me!
What irksome hand, weaving these knots around,
Has gathered my hair with such care on my brow?
