HIPPOLYTUS, THERAMENES

THERAMENES Is that the form of Phaedra that I see Hurried away? What mean these signs of sorrow? Where is your sword? Why are you pale, confused? HIPPOLYTUS Friend, let us fly. I am, indeed, confounded With horror and astonishment extreme. Phaedra—but no; gods, let this dreadful secret Remain for ever buried in oblivion. THERAMENES The ship is ready if you wish to sail. But Athens has already giv'n her vote; Their leaders have consulted all her tribes; Your brother is elected, Phaedra wins. HIPPOLYTUS Phaedra? THERAMENES A herald, charged with a commission From Athens, has arrived to place the reins Of power in her hands. Her son is King. HIPPOLYTUS Ye gods, who know her, do ye thus reward Her virtue? THERAMENES A faint rumour meanwhile whispers That Theseus is not dead, but in Epirus Has shown himself. But, after all my search, I know too well— HIPPOLYTUS Let nothing be neglected. This rumour must be traced back to its source. If it be found unworthy of belief, Let us set sail, and cost whate'er it may, To hands deserving trust the sceptre's sway.