Phaedra: [recovering from her faint] Who gives me back to griefs, and floods again

My soul with heavy care? How well for me

Had I sunk down to death!

Hippolytus: But why, poor soul,

Dost thou lament the gift of life restored?

Phaedra [aside]: Come dare, attempt, fulfil thine own command.

Speak out, and fearlessly. Who asks in fear

Suggests a prompt refusal. Even now

The greater part of my offense is done.

Too late my present modesty. My love,

I know, is base; but if I persevere,

Perchance the marriage torch will hide my sin.

Success makes certain sins respectable.

Come now, begin.

[To Hippolytus]

Bend lower down thine ear,

I pray; if any comrade be at hand,

Let him depart, that we may speak alone.

Hippolytus: Behold, the place is free from witnesses.

Phaedra: My lips refuse to speak my