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Jean Racine (1639–1699). Phædra.
The Harvard Classics. 1909–14.

Act I

Scene II



Alas, my lord, what grief was e’er like mine?

The queen has almost touch’d the gates of death.

Vainly close watch I keep by day and night,

E’en in my arms a secret malady

Slays her, and all her senses are disorder’d.

Weary yet restless from her couch she rises,

Pants for the outer air, but bids me see

That no one on her misery intrudes.

She comes.


Enough. She shall not be disturb’d,

Nor be confronted with a face she hates.