with stories to my shame. Perdition seize thee and every meddling fool who by dishonest means would serve unwilling friends!
Nur. Mistress, thou may'st condemn the mischief I have done, for sorrow’s sting o'ermasters thy judgment; yet can I answer thee in face of this, if thou wilt hear. 'Twas I who nurtured thee; I love thee still; but in my search for medicine to cure thy sickness I found what least I sought. Had I but succeeded, I had been counted wise, for the credit we get for wisdom is measured by our success.
Phæ. Is it just, is it any satisfaction to me, that thou shouldst wound me first, then bandy[1] words with me?
Nur. We dwell on this too long; I was not wise, I own; but there are yet ways of escape from the trouble, my child.
Phæ. Be dumb henceforth; evil was thy first advice to me, evil too thy attempted scheme. Begone and leave me, look to thyself; I will my own fortunes for the best arrange. (Exit Nurse). Ye noble daughters of Trœzen, grant me the only boon I crave; in silence bury what ye here have heard.
Cho. By majestic Artemis, child of Zeus, I swear I will never divulge aught of thy sorrows.
Phæ. 'Tis well. But I, with all my thought,[2] can but one way discover out of this calamity, that so I may secure my children's honour, and find myself some help as matters stand. For never, never will I bring shame upon my Cretan home, nor will I, to save one poor life, face Theseus after my disgrace.
Cho. Art thou bent then on some cureless woe?
Phæ. On death; the means thereto must I devise myself.
Cho. Hush!
