HIPPOLYTUS It is not her vain enmity I fear, Another foe alarms Hippolytus. I fly, it must be own'd, from young Aricia, The sole survivor of an impious race.
THERAMENES What! You become her persecutor too! The gentle sister of the cruel sons Of Pallas shared not in their perfidy; Why should you hate such charming innocence?
HIPPOLYTUS I should not need to fly, if it were hatred.
THERAMENES May I, then, learn the meaning of your flight? Is this the proud Hippolytus I see, Than whom there breathed no fiercer foe to love And to that yoke which Theseus has so oft Endured? And can it be that Venus, scorn'd So long, will justify your sire at last? Has she, then, setting you with other mortals, Forced e'en Hippolytus to offer incense Before her? Can you love?
HIPPOLYTUS Friend, ask me not. You, who have known my heart from infancy And all its feelings of disdainful pride, Spare me the s