Jean Racine (1639–1699). Phædra.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.
Act I
Scene IIHIPPOLYTUS, ŒNONE, THERAMENES
Œnone
Œnone
Alas, my lord, what grief was e’er like mine?
The queen has almost touch’d the gates of death.
Vainly close watch I keep by day and night,
E’en in my arms a secret malady
Slays her, and all her senses are disorder’d.
Weary yet restless from her couch she rises,
Pants for the outer air, but bids me see
That no one on her misery intrudes.
She comes.
Hippolytus
Enough. She shall not be disturb’d,
Nor be confronted with a face she hates.