Phædra is a masterpiece of characterization. Whatever we are to guess of the earlier[491] picture, she is here a noble and spirited woman, who cannot help her instincts but who can and will dispute their power over her life. She is, of course, not perfect—if she were she would be no fit subject for drama—and the manner in which Euripides has caused the action to hinge precisely upon her weaknesses, without lessening our respect and affection, is one of the most improving studies provided by dramatic art. The little crevices of circumstance by which wrong-doing—the destruction of Hippolytus—creeps into her soul are beautifully indicated. She is wasted by fasting,[492] a state conducive to keener perception and weaker will. She has been brought—without any attempt on her part, so surely she may indulge in the disastrous joy[493]—from Athens to the little town where the prince lives. Her husband, as it chances,[494] is from home and her life is left empty for “long, long thoughts”.[495] When she dwells upon her passion the recollection of her mother’s and her sister’s fate half attracts while it half repels.[496] Her passionate nature insists on revealing some part of her distress to the keen eyes of the nurse, who forthwith joins the claims of old affection[497] to this new secret pain. So it is that she is half-conquered by what she will not do:— Nay, in God’s name, forbear! Thy words are vile But wise withal. Love in my soul too well Hath mined his way. Urge sin thus winningly And passion sweeps my fears into the gulf.[498] But the nurse will not forbear, and the comforting promise of a charm which shall “still this disease,”[499] as Phædra perhaps half-suspects,[500] is an undertaking to win Hippolytus. The dread strain of illness, passion, and shame have turned the woman for a moment into a nervous child.[501] Thus it comes about that without disgrace, without forfeiture of her conscience, Phædra moves towards the dread moment[502] at which she hears the outcry of Hippolytus. Then after all the anguish, she listens to his intolerable endless speech! Such is the situation in which murder is conceived. In this way Hippolytus’ σωφροσύνη has certainly been his undoing.[503] We are told[504] that this play is a second version of the theme, and that it was called _The Crowned Hippolytus_ (from the lovely address to Artemis) to distinguish it from the first, called _The Veiled Hippolytus_. This version (now lost) is said to have contained “improprieties” which the poet afterwards removed. This refers to the attitude of Phædra, who showed less reserve in her passion than in the later play. She invoked the moon-goddess, perhaps to aid her in winning Hippolytus, and boldly pointed to the infidelities of Theseus as an excuse for her own passion.[505] The reproaches[506] which Aristophanes lays upon Phædra refer perhaps only to this earlier version, but his most famous gibe[507] is upon a line[508] of our text,