Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Shirley A. Barlow was Lecturer in the Department of Classical Studies, University of Kent at Canterbury. Her publications include editions of Euripides' plays Heracles and Trojan Women for the Aris & Phillips Classical Texts series, and 'The Imagery of Euripides' (Bristol Classical Press, 2008).

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Euripides

David Brown Book Company

Chapter One

Hippolytus

Translated by
Richard Moore

Cast

APHRODITE, goddess of love, also called Cypris
ARTEMIS, virgin goddess of hunting
HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus
HUNTSMEN
MESSENGER
NURSE of Phaedra
PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus, stepmother of Hippolytus
SERVANT
THESEUS, king of Athens and Troezen
CHORUS of Troezen women

(Statue of Aphrodite, left; statue of Artemis, right; palace door,
center. Choral space between audience and stage. Aphrodite
enters from her image.)

APHRODITE

Everyone knows me. I'm Cypris, the goddess.
Sex and desire, my specialties, draw men
helpless from Pontus to Heracles' Pillars.
Those that delight in me, I can reward them;
those that detest me will harvest my hatred.
Even immortals get caught in my soft snares.
Goddesses love it when worshipers gather.
Listen: I'll prove that this very hour.
There is a fellow, King Theseus' young son,
huntsman Hippolytus, lover of horses,
born of an Amazon lady in Athens.
Grandfather Pittheus raised the boy here in
Troezen because of his unmarried mother.
Hates me, this fellow. The thought of me sickens.
Hates love's bed, scorns pleasures of marriage,
worships instead prim Artemis, huntress,
Phoebus' sister and Zeus' proud daughter;
says she's the sacredest thing in the heavens.
Never can leave her, adores her, his maiden.
There with his dogs hunts beasts in the forest,
he and his she-spirit blessing each other.
Why should that bother me? Why should I mind that?
Well, my Hippolytus, you shall pay dear, dear.
All is prepared, and the path lies open.
Not that I'll work very hard at it, mind you.
Oh, it was years ago now when it started.
Theseus, bringing a sexy new consort,
Phaedra dear, home to his kingdom in Athens,
thought: now what of Hippolytus, young boy
got on that Amazon lady I mentioned?
That's when he sent him to grandfather Pittheus
here to be raised as the ruler of Troezen.
But, as it happened, he went back to Athens
once, to take part in the mysteries held there.
Phaedra caught sight of him, heart in her throbbing
shamefully: she was the wife of his father,
she, proud ladyship, gripped in a raging
criminal lust for him. That was my doing.
Then, before coming to Troezen herself, she
built me a shrine on a storm-lashed headland,
visible here in the city, and called it,
"Love from afar," for Hippolytus: wishes.
("Goddess, be seated!" our aftertimes call it.)
Meanwhile Theseus, dealing with uncles,
shed much blood, so he took a vacation,
hoping for calm, and he moved his young family
here, where Hippolytus lives. Here Phaedra
wastes away, stung by her furious longings,
dies of them, agonized; dares, though, no word
breathe of it, guiltily hoarding her sickness.
Terrified servants in wonderment whisper.
Ah, but the truth of it's sure to get out soon,

Theseus hear of it ... that I will see to.
Oh then loudly he'll cry to Poseidon,
call down curses the Sea God promised,
down on that hateful Hippolytus, sweep him
deep under earth ... poor Phaedra, devoted ...
Oh what a pity! for she will die also,
nevertheless with her name unsullied;
still, she must die. How else can my proud foes
learn that it's most unwise to insult me?

Look there: Theseus' boy is approaching,
beautiful man, and his hunting is over,
lordly Hippolytus. Best that I leave now.
Followers come with him, raising their clamor,
filling the day with his Artemis ditties.
Hasn't a clue that the Underworld's waiting.
This day's light won't end till it ends him.
(Exit. Enter Hippolytus and huntsmen.)

HIPPOLYTUS

Sing of her, sing of her,
sing of sweet Artemis,
Zeus' great daughter
cares for us ever.

HUNTSMEN

Lady, lady, most holy,
Zeus' great daughter,
joy to you, joy to you,
daughter of Zeus and of Leto,
fairest of maidens
high in the heavenly
courts of your father
glittering, golden,
fairest of all on Olympus.

HIPPOLYTUS

Lady, this wreath from an untouched meadow,
picked for you, woven with my own fingers,
where no shepherded flocks, no farmer's
plow has invaded, but only the bees in the springtime
frequented, spirit of reverence tilled it,
coaxed from the nearby stream sweet waters:
men who have learned things, dominant sure ones,
they have been left out, they have no place here.
Untaught modesty gathers your flowers,
leaving those impure spirits excluded.
Queen of my being, accept this wreath now,
meant for your glorious hair, all golden.
I among mortals alone, great goddess,
speak with you, hear you alone in the darkness,
never have seen you, nor do I hope to.
Let life end for me as you began it!

SERVANT

Only the gods have the title of master:
would you consider a piece of advice, Prince?

HIPPOLYTUS

Fool I would be, good friend, if I wouldn't.

SERVANT

One great rule for us mortals--you know it?

HIPPOLYTUS

Know what? I don't understand what you're saying.

SERVANT

Men can get fall of themselves, lack friendship.

HIPPOLYTUS

Right. People full of themselves will deserve that.

SERVANT

And your relaxed ones tend to be charming?

HIPPOLYTUS

Definitely, and it costs them nothing.

SERVANT (pointing to the sky)

There among gods, things also are like that?

HIPPOLYTUS

Doubtless. We copy immortals, so yes, friend.

SERVANT

Furious goddesses, Prince, we should placate?

HIPPOLYTUS

Which goddess? Tell me, and watch what you're saying.

SERVANT (pointing to the statue of Aphrodite)

This goddess standing right here now, Cypris.

HIPPOLYTUS

That one chastely I greet from a distance.

SERVANT

Still, though, terrible, glorious is she.

HIPPOLYTUS

Bedtime goddesses, friend, you can keep them.

SERVANT

Honor all goddesses, or you'll regret it.

HIPPOLYTUS

Some choose one goddess, others another.

SERVANT

Luck to you, Prince, I'm afraid you may need it.

HIPPOLYTUS

Inside, followers! Look to our supper!
After a good hunt, eating's a pleasure.
You there, rub down my horses, and when we've
eaten our fill, we'll go chariot riding.
I say, Joy to you, Cypris, stay far...