HIPPOLYXUS
the helplessness of childbirth and its madness
are linked to it for ever.
My body, too, has felt this thrill of pain, 165
and I called on Artemis, Queen of the Bow;
she has my reverence always
as she goes in the company of the Gods.
But here is the old woman, the queen's nurse 170
here at the door. She is bringing her mistress out.
There is a gathering cloud upon her face.
What is the matter? my soul is eager to know.
What can have made the queen so pale?
What can have wasted her body so? 175
SCENE II . I
(Enter the Nurse, supporting Phaedra.) :
Nurse
A weary thing is sickness and its pains!
What must I do now?
Here is light and air, the brightness of the sky.
I have brought out the couch on which you tossed
in fever—here clear of the house. 180
Your every word has been to bring you out,
but when you're here, you hurry in again.
You find no constant pleasure anywhere
for when your joy is upon you, suddenly
you're foiled and cheated.
There's no content for you in what you have
for you're forever finding something dearer,
some other thing—because you have it not. 185
It's better to be sick than nurse the sick.
Sickness is single trouble for the sufferer:
but nursing means vexation of the mind,
and hard work for the hands besides.
The life of man entire is misery:
he finds no resting place, no haven from calamity. 190
But something other dearer still than life
187