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The Penn Greek Drama Series presents original literary translations of the entire corpus of classical Greek drama: tragedies, comedies, and satyr plays. It is the only contemporary series of all the surviving work of Aeschylus, Sophocles, Euripides, Aristophanes, and Menander.

This volume includes translations by Richard Moore ( Hippolytus ), John Frederick Nims ( Suppliant Women ), Rachel Hadas ( Helen ), Elizabeth Seydel Morgan ( Electra ), and Palmer Bovie ( Cyclops ).

Tabla de contenidos provista por Syndetics

• Introduction
• Translated
• Translated
• Translated
• Translated
• Translated
• Glossary of Names
• About the Translators

Extracto provisto por Syndetics

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 off. (Exit.) SERVANT We say, young fools need not be mimicked. We who must serve in humility, humbly worship you, Cypris, and beg of you, dear one, try to forgive youth's follies, forgive him. Goddesses ought to be wiser than mortals. (Exeunt. Enter Chorus of Troezen women.) CHORUS Cliff in the mountains, flowing with water far from the ocean, fair to be scooped up, filling our pitchers, there a companion, washing our garments, spread them for drying, warm on the rock face-- there I heard news of my Queen. Lying afflicted, feverish, sickened there in her bedroom three long days now, nothing to nourish poor wracked body, golden hair shrouded: what secret grieving drives her life's voyage, soon to be harbored in death? Is it the wildness of forests deeply invades you, oh my suffering queen? Hecate's spirit or Pan's, mad Corybantian revels, honoring mountain-born Cybele? Have you sinned against Artemis, queen of all hunters? Dear, are you tainted? Is it the Lakelady lost in the eddying surf? Maybe your husband, nobly born ruler of Athens, ruled by his passions, finds other women, here in the palace perhaps makes love far from your bed. Maybe some sailor from Crete new to our harbor has just brought terrible news to our queen, binding her fast to her bed, lost in misfortunes. Nature in woman lacks harmony. Helpless she dwells among dangers, helplessness ever in all things. Birth's hard suffering wracks her, her own great foolishness also. Into my womb pierced birth pangs. Artemis, hearing me calling, came to me, quietly soothing. Her I shall worship forever. Look! It's her mistress' nurse in the doorway, and she is bringing the queen into daylight. Look there, look at her face all clouded! Sweet sad body so ravaged, so altered! Somehow, if we could just comprehend this ... NURSE Oh, these wretched diseases that plague us! What shall I do for you? What shall I not do? Darling, there's light here, I've brought out your sickbed just as you asked. Will you find some contentment clear of the house? "Take me out!" you kept calling. Now that you're out here, you still cry, find no constancy anywhere. What do you want, dear? Nothing, apparently, gives any pleasure. Anything present displeases you, not there's wished for. Better be sick than this nurse work! Sickness is miserable, yes, and I know that. That's just one thing. Nursing is two things: feeling the trouble and hard labor also. Nothing but misery, life for us mortals! Oh, is there anything better beyond this? All is in darkness, the poor sad light here all that we have, this light that we cling to, knowing not anything better behind it. Stories we tell of it, nothing but stories. PHAEDRA Lift me up! Hold up my head! All my muscles loosened and feeble, my beautiful arms, look! Off with this hat! Can't bear it. It's heavy. Off with it! Free my hair to my shoulders! NURSE Easy, my dear one! Don't toss about so! Sickness is easier, dear, when you're patient. Think of your dignity! People can see you. Suffering goes with mortality. Bear it! PHAEDRA Bring me to fresh springs high in the mountains. Let me drink cool fresh water and lie there, glad in the untouched meadows. NURSE Child, this is madness; those people will hear you, shocked that their queen's gone out of her senses. PHAEDRA Mountains! I must to the mountains. The pine groves wait for me, hounds of the huntsmen, the wild beasts, stags and the dog pack hurrying after, huntsmen shouting, the javelin cocked back right at my gold-haired ear, steel-pointed. NURSE What strange feverishness, wild madness? Hunting? And you such a delicate lady? Fresh springs? Right by the city wall, flowing. Drink there, dearie--as much as you thirst for. PHAEDRA Artemis, there in the salt lake splashing, mistress of echoing hoofs, you must help me. Oh, I shall run with you, taming wild horses. NURSE Gyrating words, wild frenzy and madness. Off to the hunt in the mountains, then horses suddenly breaking in--where? By the seashore? Dearie, my dearie, what god, what diviner is there to tell us what fury has gripped you? PHAEDRA Miserable! Oh, I'm so miserable! Help me! What have I done? Gone out of my senses. Madness, some goddess has maddened me, helpless. I'm so ashamed. Quick! Cover me quickly, hide me away again, Oh, so unhappy. Tears on my cheeks, I can feel them. They scald me, torture me, tell what I lack ... moderation. Bitter to know that, bitter to feel it. Better to die, know no more ever. NURSE There now, I've covered you. My old body, may deep death soon cover that also. (turns to the audience and Chorus) This long living can teach many lessons. Friendship, the feeling of one for another, sweet wine mixed with the evenings-- not to be mixed too strong. Sweet affection-- never allow it to touch to the marrow. Let such fetters be easily broken, easily tightened and easily loosened. it is not good that a bond pull deep as mine for this woman, and many have said it: thoughts too constant, too pure, can destroy us. Men must attend to their health, must remember, love may be sweet; moderation preserves us. CHORUS Gray-haired nurse to the queen, we can see poor Phaedra's affliction, but don't understand it. Kindly inform us. We wait for your answer. NURSE Nothing to tell you; she'll tell me nothing. CHORUS Not one hint of her trouble's beginning? NURSE Nothing, I tell you; obstinate silence. CHORUS Look at her body, though, agonized, wasted. NURSE Three whole days not a morsel has eaten. CHORUS Then ... is it madness, her longing for death, then? NURSE Yes, undoubtedly that's where she's headed. CHORUS Well, does her husband know anything of this? NURSE No, she denies it, her sickness conceals it. CHORUS But he would guess with a glance at her wracked face. NURSE He's not here. He's away from the city. CHORUS Well, you must force her, must press her to tell you clearly what's making her poor wits wander. NURSE Look, I've tried everything; nothing unlocks her. Well, even now, though, I won't stop trying. Judge me, you women; I have always been faithful, haven't I, fighting my master's afflictions? (to Phaedra) So, noble lady, dear child, let's be gracious, kind; and let's soften that glowering at me. Granted, I've not sympathetically listened always before. So we'll try something new now. If you are ill with a secret, some illness, women are standing right here who can help you if you will let them and tell them your troubles. Say, so a doctor can make a pronouncement. Nothing, dear? Can't you say anything, lady? This grim silence is getting us nowhere. Either I'm wrong and you can correct me, or I am right and you should obey me. Say something! Look at me! ... Oh, it's hopeless. Woman, I've tried, I have labored, belabored ... (to the Chorus) We are as far from all knowledge as ever. Now it's the same as before. Unmelted, stiff she remains and refuses to hear me. (to Phaedra) Queen, you should know this, though to my reasons obstinate still as the circling ocean: Dying is murderous, murders your children. They, if you die, lose out in your kingdom. One, by the Amazon rider who bore him, bastard in birth, but a prince in his own mind, one you know well, dear, Hippolytus-- PHAEDRA No, no! NURSE So, that's touched you. PHAEDRA O nurse, don't kill me. Oh, don't mention that man to me ever. NURSE Well then; you've come to your senses ... and still you don't mind killing yourself and your children? PHAEDRA Children? I love them. Other storms wrench me. NURSE Is there a stain on your hands? Are they bloody? PHAEDRA Clean! It's my heart that is stained, blood-sodden. NURSE Sorcery, then, from some enemy taints you? PHAEDRA Loved one! Ruins me! Neither one wills it. NURSE Master? Has he done something against you? PHAEDRA Gods! Keep me guiltless in that man's presence! NURSE What is this strange thing driving you deathward? PHAEDRA Leave me my wrongs. You're not wronged by them, are you? NURSE (on her knees, clasping Phaedra) Why are you doing this, driving me from you? PHAEDRA Why are you grasping me, grasping my hands now? NURSE Knees too grasping. I won't let you go, dear. PHAEDRA Sorrowful nurse! You will find out my secret. NURSE Losing you, what more terrible sorrow? PHAEDRA And you will kill me. My life is in silence. NURSE Still you'll hide it, ignore my pleading? PHAEDRA Here in my shame, dear, I will have honor. NURSE If there's honor here, let words tell it! PHAEDRA Oh, by the gods, let go of me, go, go! NURSE Not till you tell me, not till I hear it. PHAEDRA Spoken! Your suppliant arms have compelled me. NURSE I'll say no more; yours is the word now. PHAEDRA Miserable mother, your lust ... what horror! NURSE That she adored that bull, even mated ... PHAEDRA Sister as well; Dionysus seduced her. NURSE Why these tales of your relatives, darling? PHAEDRA I am the third who miserably perish. NURSE Frightening words, where, where are they leading? PHAEDRA It's an inherited curse, not recent. NURSE What's not recent? I still have heard nothing. PHAEDRA Oh can't you say them, the words? Do I have to? NURSE Am I a prophet, to guess hidden secrets? PHAEDRA What is it? Poor men label it, passion. NURSE Pleasure it brings, pain, braided together. PHAEDRA Pain, yes; that I have known, and I know it. NURSE Ah! You're in love, child! Who is the man, then? PHAEDRA There is a man ... with an Amazon mother ... NURSE Meaning ... Hippolytus! PHAEDRA You said it, not I. NURSE What do you say, child? This will be my death. No, woman; no one's alive who can bear this. I ... live? Die rather, cursing the daylight, cursing the bright hot sun there above us, throw myself from a cliff, fall headlong. I will be rid of life somehow, somehow say to you all, Farewell!--and be ended. (goes to the statue of Aphrodite) Chaste people don't love vice, now do they? Oh, but they do love it. You are no goddess, Cypris; you're stronger than that, if it can be, you who have ruined her, ruined this great house. (Exit.) CHORUS Hear, did you hear it, hear the queen crying cries of disaster? Ears oughtn't hear that. Die I would rather, rather then hear that. Sorry I am for her, cry for her troubles. Troubles destroy her. You are the dead one, dragging your ruin into our daylight. Now what will happen, now what waits in your long life's ruin? What new horror comes to this house now? Yes, we can see now how it will all end, miserable Crete girl, victim of Cypris, born of your dark and bull-loving mother. PHAEDRA (distracted, trying to make sense) Listen to me, you women of Troezen, watching me here on Hellas' headland: often through night's long dark I've considered how an existence like mine can be shattered. Foolishness can't be the cause, for the victim's often intelligent. Look at it this way: Some know the good, apprehending it clearly, just can't seem to achieve it, and others, lazy perhaps, or they value some pleasure other than honor ... and woman's existence, so full of pleasures--amusements and gossip-- leisure, that curse of us. Shame! How it plagues us! Shame is of two kinds: one, quite harmless ... then, there's this other, this ruin of houses. Can't I be clearer? I think so. I'll try to. That one word, it has two different meanings. Oh, have I said that? ... Here's my opinion. Nothing will change it, no spell, no elixir. From the beginning I'll say how my thoughts went. Then, when the rage first entered me, how best bear it, I wondered? Conceal it in silence! That is the best thing clearly, for tongues are not to be trusted. They criticize, slander, and to their owners they bring much trouble. Second, I thought I could fight love's fury, nobly endure it, subduing the madness, brave, overpower her, Cypris ... My failure moved me at last to consider the third way. Death is the best of all plans. Who disputes it? Death leaves virtue intact. Let my good deeds honor my memory, shames be forgotten. Cursed be the deed and the passionate longing! I am a woman, and men don't forgive that. Vile to pollute it, the marital chamber, bringing strange men there. Our high-born women showed us the way. The nobility lead us; they're the example. The lowly will follow. Women who mouth chaste words, but in secret revel in lechery--Oh, I detest that! How can such guilty ones look at their husbands? Answer me, Cypris! Oh, won't they in terror hear in the darkness their roofbeams screaming? Death will protect me from that, and my husband, children. And may they have prosperous lifetimes, nurtured in Athens, where free men flourish! They will have strength from their much-honored mother. How it enslaves stout men to remember sins that their fathers and mothers committed! One thing only in life gives mortals strength to endure life: they have been decent. Life shows, as to a girl in a mirror, each of us, sooner or later, his vileness. All must look at it. I shall not be there. CHORUS Ah, ah! Everywhere chastity valued, felt to be beautiful. Isn't that lovely! (Enter Nurse.) NURSE Mistress, the terrible news that you gave me suddenly just now--dearie, it shocked me. Now I can see I was foolish. With mortals, second thoughts, now I can see, might be better. Really, they strike us a lot, to my thinking, passion-bolts flung by the Goddess. You love him. What's there to marvel at? Many are like you. Will you destroy your existence because love doesn't seem proper? What profit's in that, dear? Everyone loves, and it's nothing to die for. Cypris attacks us; she's rough when resisted, but when we yield, she becomes much milder. How she mistreats them, the haughty and proud ones! Flies through the air, then dips in the sea-wave. Everything's born of her, everything living. Hers is the urge and desire that brings forth all earth's creatures, and all are her children. Haven't you read in the books of the poets how once for Semele great Zeus lusted? Didn't the radiant Dawn once snatch up Cephalus? These have been driven by love, all. Think of them, happy up there in the heavens, glad, though they're gods, to be conquered by passion. Won't play along with this, will you? Your father should have begotten you under a contract not to obey love's laws--under different gods set apart from the rest of us. Tell me: How many men, dear, seeing their wives in bright day carrying on with a lover, close their eyes and pretend to see nothing? How many fathers have pandered for sons, dear? Wise men can tell you: dishonor kept hidden's perfectly honorable, and I ask you: whence comes man's strange itch for perfection? Even the roofs of his houses are sloping. Lost on your life's deep storm-tossed ocean, think about swimming to shore. And consider: here in our state of mortality, when your good deeds outweigh evil, you're lucky. Dearie, get rid of your thoughts, of that proud old urge to outdo the immortals, that madness. Courage! Some deity wished this to happen. Since you are sick, find something to cure you: charms, incantations, who knows what might help you? All those clever discoveries men make wouldn't be made without women to help them. CHORUS Phaedra, the words that she utters are useful in your predicament; praiseworthy, your words, though they may sound to you much less pleasant: kind to your name, not to you; yet I praise them. PHAEDRA (to the Nurse) Speeches like yours bring cities to ruin, pleasant to hear, yet they dash down houses. Words aren't needed to flatter and soothe me; words are required that will save my honor. NURSE Fiddlesticks. High-flown rhetoric's not what's needed. What's needed's a lover. It's high time plain words entered and stripped the disguises, spoke clear truth to you, desperate mistress. Oh, if your life didn't hang in the balance, or if you weren't too weak to resist love's fury, I wouldn't be pandering like this. Life's to be saved, and I'm fighting to save it. PHAEDRA Speaker of horrors, for once will you keep still? Lock up your words! They are wicked and shameful. NURSE Shameful, no doubt; but they're beautiful for you, saving your life as they do. And your good name? Proud words bring you, my dear, to destruction. PHAEDRA Oh, gods ... these sweet words ... are disgusting. Go no further! I'm schooled. I am ready. I can endure love's fate. Won't you let me? Oh, I am trapped in the shame I would flee from! NURSE That's how you feel? Stick closer to virtue! Next best thing is to do what I tell you. I can provide you with medicine, love-cures, there in the house, that I just now thought of Nothing to frighten you, nothing to shame you, but it will lull you; you mustn't be timid. Yes! We must get from the loved man something-- maybe a word, or his hair, or a piece of clothing, to knit you two firmly together. Copyright © 1998 University of Pennsylvania Press. All rights reserved.

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CHOICE Review

Most of the translators in the new "Penn Greek Drama Series" are poets rather than classicists. Only a few indicate that they have a sufficient knowledge of Greek to permit them to work from the Greek text itself; the others have either had the guidance of classical scholars or used existing translations as the basis of their renditions. Thus, the series emphasizes idiomatic and fluent English. These translations pass muster but do not surpass other available translations. A translator's introduction precedes each play, and some are quite perceptive. One of the general editors of the series provides a brief introduction to Greek tragedy, and a pronouncing glossary of names is included. This series will not persuade many teachers of Greek tragedy to switch their allegiance for classroom use if they have made, as this reviewer has, effective use of the eloquent and authoritative "complete Greek Tragedies" series, ed. by David Grene and Richmond Lattimore. However, undergraduate and graduate libraries many wish to include these more popular versions in their classics holdings. L. Golden Florida State University