Your hands have no
innocent
blood on them, no stain?
Racine - Phaedra
.
.
Phaedra
Gods!
Oenone
You're moved by my censure? 205
Phaedra
Wretched woman, whose name do you dare to mention?
Oenone
That's good! Your anger rises for a reason:
I'm glad to see you shudder at her fatal son.
Live then. As love and duty shall drive you on,
Live, and don't allow that child of a Scythian, 210
Crushing your children in despised embrace,
To command the gods' and Greece's noblest race.
But don't delay: each moment now is killing you.
Quickly then, your waning strength needs rescue,
While the flame of your life, almost dwindled, 215
Still endures, and can even yet be rekindled.
Phaedra
I've already prolonged its guilty thread too far.
Oenone
How! By what remorse are you being torn apart?
What crime could have brought about such fierce pain?
Your hands have no innocent blood on them, no stain? 220
Phaedra
Thanks to heaven, my hands are not criminals.
Would the gods my heart were innocent as well!
Oenone
And what fearful project have you tried,
That it still leaves your heart so terrified?
Phaedra
I've talked to you enough. Now, spare me the rest. 225
I die to evade this disastrous urge to confess.
Oenone
Well die: and so protect that inhuman silence:
But seek another hand to close your eyes, and
Though scarcely a feeble ray of light is left you,
My spirit will descend to the dead before you. 230
A thousand roads ever open lead us on,
And my true grief will choose the shortest one.
Cruel one, when has my faith ever betrayed you?
Think: when you were born my arms received you.
For you, I left everything, my land: my children. 235
Is this the reward that loyalty shall be given?
Phaedra
What benefit do you hope for from this violence?
You'll shudder with horror if I break my silence.
Oenone
Great gods, what could you tell me that wouldn't yield
To the horror of seeing you die, my eyes unsealed?
Phaedra
Gods!
Oenone
You're moved by my censure? 205
Phaedra
Wretched woman, whose name do you dare to mention?
Oenone
That's good! Your anger rises for a reason:
I'm glad to see you shudder at her fatal son.
Live then. As love and duty shall drive you on,
Live, and don't allow that child of a Scythian, 210
Crushing your children in despised embrace,
To command the gods' and Greece's noblest race.
But don't delay: each moment now is killing you.
Quickly then, your waning strength needs rescue,
While the flame of your life, almost dwindled, 215
Still endures, and can even yet be rekindled.
Phaedra
I've already prolonged its guilty thread too far.
Oenone
How! By what remorse are you being torn apart?
What crime could have brought about such fierce pain?
Your hands have no innocent blood on them, no stain? 220
Phaedra
Thanks to heaven, my hands are not criminals.
Would the gods my heart were innocent as well!
Oenone
And what fearful project have you tried,
That it still leaves your heart so terrified?
Phaedra
I've talked to you enough. Now, spare me the rest. 225
I die to evade this disastrous urge to confess.
Oenone
Well die: and so protect that inhuman silence:
But seek another hand to close your eyes, and
Though scarcely a feeble ray of light is left you,
My spirit will descend to the dead before you. 230
A thousand roads ever open lead us on,
And my true grief will choose the shortest one.
Cruel one, when has my faith ever betrayed you?
Think: when you were born my arms received you.
For you, I left everything, my land: my children. 235
Is this the reward that loyalty shall be given?
Phaedra
What benefit do you hope for from this violence?
You'll shudder with horror if I break my silence.
Oenone
Great gods, what could you tell me that wouldn't yield
To the horror of seeing you die, my eyes unsealed?
