A land where Theseus' name hath never sounded;
Fly, traitor! brave no longer here, my hate!
Within a court that I shall hold with dread,
For ever will the curse cling to my name,
And endless infamy my memory,
That, having given birth to one so shameless,
I dared not take the life I gave to him!
Wretch that thou art, dost thou not answer me?
Hip. Sire, I am not the wretch that thou would'st make me.
Horror—astonishment—have kept me silent—