Not I; but wherefore such a question?AttendantsIt hates reserve which careth not for all men’s love.HippolytusAnd rightly too; reserve in man is ever galling.AttendantsBut there’s a charm in courteous affability?HippolytusThe greatest surely; aye, and profit, too, at trifling cost.AttendantsDost think the same law holds in heaven as well?HippolytusI trow it doth, since all our laws we men from heaven draw.AttendantsWhy, then, dost thou neglect to greet an august goddess?Mahaffy rearranges these next nine lines and certainly obtains a clearer meaning. His note repays study, if not wholly convincing. I translate from Paleyk text as it stands.HippolytusWhom speak’st thou of? Keep watch upon thy tongue lest it some mischief cause.AttendantsCypris I mean, whose image is stationed o’er thy gate.HippolytusI greet her from afar, preserving still my chastity.AttYet is she an august goddess, far renowned on earth.Hippolytus’Mongst gods as well as men we have our several preferences.AttendantsI wish thee luck, and wisdom too, so far as thou dost need it.HippolytusNo god, whose worship craves the night, hath charms for me.AttendantsMy son, we should avail us of the gifts that gods confer.HippolytusGo in, my faithful followers, and make ready food within the house; a well-filled board hath charms after the chase is o’er. Rub down my steeds ye must, that when I have had my all I may yoke them to the chariot and give them proper exercise. As for thy Queen of Love, a long farewell to her.[Exit Hippolytus.AttendantsMeantime I with sober mind, for I must not copy my young master, do offer up my prayer to thy image, lady Cypris, in such words as it becomes a slave to use. But thou should’st pardon all, who, in youth’s impetuous heat, speak idle words of thee; make as though thou hearest not, for gods must needs be wiser than the sons of men.

ChorusA rock there is, where, as they say, the ocean dew distils, and from its beetling brow it pours a copious stream for pitchers to be dipped therein; ’twas here I had a friend washing robes of purple in the trickling stream, and she was spreading them out on the face of a warm sunny rock; from her I had the tidings, first of all, that my mistress

Chorusshe was wasting on the bed of sickness, pent within her house, a thin veil o’ershadowing her head of golden hair. And this is the third day I hear that she hath closed her lovely lips and denied her chaste body all sustenance, eager to hide her suffering and reach death’s cheerless bourn.

ChorusMaiden, thou must be possessed, by Pan made frantic or by Hecate, or by the Corybantes dread, and Cybele the mountain mother. Or maybe thou hast sinned against Dictynna, huntress-queen, and art wasting for thy guilt in sacrifice unoffered. For she doth range o’er lakes’ expanse and past the bounds of earth