O what wilt thou do now in thy cruel dilemma? Phaedra I only know one way, one cure for these my woes and that is instant death. Hippolytus O mother earth! O sun’s unclouded orb! What words, unfit for any lips, have reached my ears! Nurse Peace, my son, lest some one hear thy outcry. Hippolytus I cannot hear such awful words and hold my peace. Nurse I do implore thee by thy fair right hand. Hippolytus Let go my hand, touch not my robe. Nurse O by thy knees I pray, destroy me not utterly. Hippolytus Why say this, if, as thou pretendest, thy lips are free from blame? Nurse My son, this is no story to be noised abroad. Hippolytus A virtuous tale grows fairer told to many.