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Translated by E. Coleridge.
61 pages - You are on Page 16 Nurse: What keener grief for me than failing to win thee? Phaedra: 'Twill be death to thee; though to me that brings renown. Nurse: And dost thou then conceal this boon despite my prayers? Phaedra: I do, for 'tis out of shame I am planning an honourable escape. Nurse: Tell it, and thine honour shall the brighter shine. Phaedra: Away, I do conjure thee; loose my hand. Nurse: I will not, for the boon thou shouldst have granted me is denied. Phaedra: I will grant it out of reverence for thy holy suppliant touch. Nurse: Henceforth I hold my peace; 'tis thine to speak from now. Previous Page / First / Next Page of Hippolytus
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