_Theseus:_ At last have I escaped from endless night, 835 That shadowy realm which close confines the dead. And now my eyes can scarce endure the light Which I have long desired. Eleusin now Has four times reaped her ripened grain, the gift Triptolemus bestowed; thrice and again Has Libra measured equal day and night, Since dubious battling with an unknown fate Has held me in the toils of life and death. 840 To me, though dead to all things else, one part Of life remained, the consciousness of ill. Alcides was the end. When he came down To bring the dog by force from Tartarus, He brought me also to the upper world. 845 But ah, my wearied frame has lost the strength It had of old; I walk with faltering steps. Alas! how great a task it was to reach The world of light from lower Phlegethon, To flee from death and follow Hercules! But why this sound of wailing in my ears? 850 Let someone tell; for agonies of woe And grief and lamentations sad I meet Upon the very threshold of my home-- A fitting welcome to a guest from hell. _Nurse:_ The queen is obstinately bent on death, And scorns the strong remonstrance of our tears. 855 _Theseus:_ Why should she die, her husband safe returned? _Nurse:_ That very cause compels her speedy death. _Theseus:_ Thy words are dark and hide some weighty truth. Speak out and tell what grief weighs down her soul. _Nurse:_ She tells her grief to none. Some secret woe 860 She hides within her heart, and is resolved To take her secret with her to the grave. But speed thee to her; there is need of haste. _Theseus:_ Unbar the close-shut portals of my house. [_The doors are opened and_ Theseus _encounters his wife just within_.] _Theseus_ [_to_ Phaedra]: My queen, is't thus thou dost receive thy lord, And welcome back thy husband long desired? 865 Nay, put away the sword from thy right hand, And give me heart again. Reveal to me The cause that forces thee to flee from life. _Phaedra:_ Alas, great Theseus, by thy kingly power, And by thy children's souls, by thy return, 870 And by my ashes, suffer me to die. _Theseus:_ What cause compels thy death? _Phaedra:_ The fruit of death Would perish if I let its cause be known. _Theseus:_ None else shall hear it save myself alone. _Phaedra:_ A chaste wife fears her husband most of all. _Theseus:_ Speak out; I'll hide thy secret in my heart. 875 _Phaedra:_ The secret thou wouldst have another guard, First guard thyself. _Theseus:_ No chance of death thou'lt find. _Phaedra:_ Death cannot fail the heart that's bent on death. _Theseus:_ Confess what sin must be atoned by death. _Phaedra:_ My life.