Thou seest? Thy mind is clear; but with thy mind
Thou wilt not save thy children, nor be kind
To thine own life.

PHAEDRA
My children? Nay, most dear
I love them,--Far, far other grief is here.

NURSE (_after a pause, wondering_)
Thy hand is clean, O Child, from stain of blood?

PHAEDRA
My hand is clean; but is my heart, O God?

NURSE
Some enemy's spell hath made thy spirit dim?

PHAEDRA
He hates me not that slays me, nor I him.

NURSE
Theseus, the King, hath wronged thee in man's wise?

PHAEDRA
Ah, could but I stand guiltless in his eyes!

NURSE
O speak! What is this death-fraught mystery?

PHAEDRA