Phaedra: 'Tis well. But I, with all my thought, can but one way discover
out of this calamity, that so I may secure my children's honour, and
find myself some help as matters stand. For never, never will I bring
shame upon my Cretan home, nor will I, to save one poor life, face
Theseus after my disgrace.
Leader: Art thou bent then on some cureless woe?
Phaedra: On death; the means thereto must I devise myself.
Leader: Hush!
Phaedra: Do thou at least advise me well. For this very day shall
I gladden Cypris, my destroyer, by yielding up my life, and shall
own myself vanquished by cruel love. Yet shall my dying be another's
curse, that he may learn not to exult at my misfortunes; but when
he comes to share the self-same plague with me, he will take a lesson
in wisdom. (Phaedra enters the palace.)
Chorus: (chanting, strophe 1)
O to be nestling 'neath some pathless cavern, there by god's creating
hand to grow into a bird amid the winged tribes! Away would I soar
to Adria's wave-beat shore and to the waters of Eridanus; where a
father's hapless daughters in their grief for Phaethon distil into
the glooming flood the amber brilliance of their tears.