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.

HIPPOLYTUS
Enough. She shall not be disturb'd,
Nor be confronted with a face she hates.



SCENE III
PHAEDRA, OENONE


PHAEDRA
We have gone far enough. Stay, dear Oenone;
Strength fails me, and I needs must rest awhile.
My eyes are dazzled with this glaring light
So long unseen, my trembling knees refuse
Support. Ah me!

OENONE
Would Heaven that our tears
Might bring relief!

PHAEDRA
Ah, how these cumbrous gauds,
These veils oppress me! What officious hand