His
inaccessible
heart is opposed to love:
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
Racine - Phaedra
Innocent of your misfortune, or culpable,
To save you still, of what would I not be capable?
But if ever its offence distressed your mind, 775
Can you forget the scornfulness of his pride?
With what cruel glances his harsh severity
Left you well nigh submissive at his feet!
How odious his savage pride has made him!
If Phaedra only had my eyes to see him! 780
Phaedra
Oenone, he may quench this pride that wounds you.
Raised in the forests, he has their wildness too.
Hippolytus, hardened by their savage laws,
Hears love's language he never heard before.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our complaints perhaps show too much violence.
Oenone
Think: a barbarian formed him in her womb.
Phaedra
Scythian, and barbarian, she's known love too.
Oenone
He has a deadly hatred for all our sex.
Phaedra
Then I'll suffer a dearth of rivals, I expect. 790
Your advice, in short, is out of season.
Serve my madness, Oenone, not my reason.
His inaccessible heart is opposed to love:
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
The charms of Empire appeared to stir him: 795
He could not conceal it: Athens attracts him:
His ships are already turned that way I find,
Their fluttering sails abandoned to the wind.
Seek out for me this youth and his ambition,
Oenone. Make the crown glitter to his vision. 800
Let him place the sacred diadem on his brow:
The honour of setting it there's all I wish now.
Let's cede the power we can't hold to this man.
He'll teach my son how to exercise command.
Perhaps he'd truly like to replace his father. 805
I'll commit to his power both son and mother.
Try every means you can to change his mind:
Your words will find a more ready ear than mine.
Urge him, weep; moan; paint Phaedra as dying,
Don't be ashamed to adopt a suppliant's sighing. 810
I'll approve you in all: I've no hope but you.
Go, I'll await you, then decide what I shall do.
Act III Scene II (Phaedra)
Phaedra
O you, who see the shame into which I fall,
Implacable Venus, am I sufficiently in thrall?
You could take your cruelty no further though. 815
Your triumph's complete: your arrows all strike home.
To save you still, of what would I not be capable?
But if ever its offence distressed your mind, 775
Can you forget the scornfulness of his pride?
With what cruel glances his harsh severity
Left you well nigh submissive at his feet!
How odious his savage pride has made him!
If Phaedra only had my eyes to see him! 780
Phaedra
Oenone, he may quench this pride that wounds you.
Raised in the forests, he has their wildness too.
Hippolytus, hardened by their savage laws,
Hears love's language he never heard before.
Perhaps his astonishment explains his silence, 785
And our complaints perhaps show too much violence.
Oenone
Think: a barbarian formed him in her womb.
Phaedra
Scythian, and barbarian, she's known love too.
Oenone
He has a deadly hatred for all our sex.
Phaedra
Then I'll suffer a dearth of rivals, I expect. 790
Your advice, in short, is out of season.
Serve my madness, Oenone, not my reason.
His inaccessible heart is opposed to love:
Let's find a weaker spot that he might be moved.
The charms of Empire appeared to stir him: 795
He could not conceal it: Athens attracts him:
His ships are already turned that way I find,
Their fluttering sails abandoned to the wind.
Seek out for me this youth and his ambition,
Oenone. Make the crown glitter to his vision. 800
Let him place the sacred diadem on his brow:
The honour of setting it there's all I wish now.
Let's cede the power we can't hold to this man.
He'll teach my son how to exercise command.
Perhaps he'd truly like to replace his father. 805
I'll commit to his power both son and mother.
Try every means you can to change his mind:
Your words will find a more ready ear than mine.
Urge him, weep; moan; paint Phaedra as dying,
Don't be ashamed to adopt a suppliant's sighing. 810
I'll approve you in all: I've no hope but you.
Go, I'll await you, then decide what I shall do.
Act III Scene II (Phaedra)
Phaedra
O you, who see the shame into which I fall,
Implacable Venus, am I sufficiently in thrall?
You could take your cruelty no further though. 815
Your triumph's complete: your arrows all strike home.
