She was jealous of her slighted honour, vexed at thy chaste life. Hippolytus Ah! then I see her single hand hath struck down three of us. Artemis Thy sire and thee, and last thy father’s wife. Hippolytus My sire’s ill-luck as well as mine I mourn. Art He was deceived by a goddess’s design. Hippolytus Woe is thee, my father, in this sad mischance! Theseus My son, I am a ruined man; life has no joys for me. Hippolytus For this mistake I mourn thee rather than myself. Theseus O that I had died for thee, my son! Hippolytus Ah! those fatal gifts thy sire Poseidon gave.