CHOR. Thou art by the gate, the noise that is sent forth from the house is thy care. But tell me, tell me, what evil, I pray thee, came to thine ears?
PHÆ. The son of the warlike Amazon, Hippolytus, cries out, abusing in dreadful forms my attendant.
CHOR. I hear indeed a noise, but can not plainly tell how it is. The voice came, it came through to the door.
PHÆ. But hark! he calls her plainly the pander of wickedness, the betrayer of her master's bed.
CHOR. Alas me for thy miseries! Thou art betrayed, dear mistress. What shall I counsel thee? for hidden things are come to light, and thou art utterly destroyed——
PHÆ. O! O!
CHOR. Betrayed by thy friends.
PHÆ. She hath destroyed me by speaking of my unhappy state, kindly but not honorably endeavoring to heal this disease.
CHOR. How then? what wilt thou do, O thou that hast suffered things incurable?
PHÆ. I know not, save one thing; to die as soon as possible is the only cure of my present sufferings.