CHOR. Oh unhappy ill-fated fortune of women! what art now or what words
have we, having failed as we have, to extricate the knot caused by [these]
words?
PHÆ. We have met a just reward; O earth, and light, in what manner, I pray,
can I escape from my fortunes? and how, my friends, can I conceal my
calamity? Who of the Gods will appear my succorer, or what mortal my ally,
or my fellow-worker in unjust works? for the suffering of my life that is
at present on me comes hardly to be escaped.[20] I am the most ill-fated of
women.
CHOR. Alas! alas! we are undone, lady, and the arts of thy attendant have
not succeeded, and it fares ill with us.
PHÆ. O thou most vile, and the destruction of thy friends, what hast thou
done to me! May Jove, my ancestor, tear thee up by the roots, having
stricken thee by his fire. Did not I tell thee (did not I foresee thy
intention?) to be silent with regard to those things with which I am now
tormented? but thou couldst not refrain; wherefore I can no longer die with
glory: but I must now in sooth employ new measures. For he, now that his
mind is made keen with rage, will tell, to my detriment, thy errors to his
father, and will fill the whole earth with the most vile reports. Mayst
thou perish, both thou and whoever else is forward to assist friends
against their will otherwise than by honorable means.
NUR. Lady, thou canst indeed blame the evil I have wrought; for that which
gnaws upon thee masters thy better judgment;--but I too have somewhat to
say in answer to these things, if thou wilt admit it: I brought thee up,
and have a kind affection toward thee; but, while searching for medicine
for thy disease, I found not that I wished for. But if I had succeeded, I
had been surely ranked among the wise; for we have the reputation of sense
according to our success.
PHÆ. What? is this conduct just, and satisfactory to me, to injure me
first, and then to meet me in argument?
NUR. We talk too long--I did not behave wisely. But even from this state of
things it is possible that thou mayest be saved, my child.
PHÆ. Desist from speaking; for before also thou didst not well advise for
me, and didst attempt evil things. But depart from my sight, and take care
about thyself; for I will settle my own affairs in an honorable manner. But
you, noble daughters of Trœzene, grant thus much to me requesting it, bury
in silence what you here have heard.
CHOR. I swear by hallowed Dian, daughter of Jove, that I will never reveal
to the face of day one of thy evils.
PHÆ. Thou hast well spoken: but one kind of resource, while I search around
me,[21] do I find for my present calamity, so that I may make the life of
my children glorious, and may myself be assisted as things have now fallen
out. For never will I disgrace the house of Crete at least, nor will I come
before the face of Theseus having acted basely, for one's life's sake.
CHOR. But what irremediable evil art thou then about to perpetrate?
PHÆ. To die: but how, this will I devise.
CHOR. Speak words of better omen.
PHÆ. And do thou at least advise me well. But having quitted life this day,
I shall gratify Venus, who destroys me, and shall be conquered by bitter
love. But when I am dead, I shall be an evil to another at least,[22] so
that he may know not to exult over my misfortunes; but, having shared this
malady in common with me, he shall learn to be modest.
CHOR. Would that I were under the rocks' vast retreats,[23] and that there
the God would make me a winged bird among the swift flocks, and that I were
lifted up above the ocean wave that dashes against the Adriatic shore, and
the water of Eridanus, where for grief of Phaethon the thrice wretched
virgins let fall into their father's billow the amber-beaming brightness of
their tears: and that I could make my way to the shore where the apples
grow of the harmonious daughters of Hesperus, where the ruler of the ocean
no longer permits the passage of the purple sea to mariners, dwelling in
that dread bourn of heaven which Atlas doth sustain, and the ambrosial
founts stream forth hard by the couches of Jove's palaces, where the divine
and life-bestowing earth increases the bliss of the Gods. O white-winged
bark of Crete, who didst bear my queen through the perturbed[24] ocean wave
of brine from a happy home, thereby aiding her in a most evil marriage. For
surely in both instances, or at any rate from Crete she came ill-omened to
renowned Athens, when on the Munychian shore they bound the platted ends of
their cables, and disembarked on the continent. Wherefore she was
heartbroken with the terrible disease of unhallowed love by the influence
of Venus; and now that she can no longer hold out against the heavy
calamity,[25] she will fit around her the noose suspended[26] from the
ceiling of her bridal chamber, adjusting it to her white neck, having
revered the hateful Goddess, and embracing an honorable name, and ridding
from her breast the painful love.