PHAE.  O Dian, mistress of Limna near the sea, and of the exercises of the rattling steeds, would that I were on thy plains, breaking the Henetian colts.

NUR.  Wherefore again have you madly uttered this word? at one time having ascended the mountain you set forth with the desire of hunting; but now again you long for the colts on the wave-beaten sands.  These things demand much skill in prophecy [to find out], who it is of the Gods that torments thee, O lady, and strikes mad thy senses.

PHAE.  Wretch that I am, what then have I committed? whither have I wandered from my sound mind?  I have gone mad; I have fallen by the evil influence of some God.  Alas! alas! unhappy that I am—­Nurse, cover my head again, for I am ashamed of the things I have spoken:  cover me; a tear trickles down my eyes, and my sight is turned to my disgrace.  For to be in one’s right mind causes grief:  but madness is an ill; yet it is better to perish, nothing knowing of one’s ills.

NUR.  I cover thee—­but when in sooth will death cover my body?  Length of life teaches me many things.  For it behooves mortals to form moderate friendships with each other, and not to the very marrow of the soul:  and the affections of the mind should be dissoluble, and so that we can slacken them, or tighten.[9] But that one soul should feel pangs for two, as I now grieve for her, is a heavy burden.  The concerns of life carried to too great an extent, they say, bring rather destruction than delight, and are rather at enmity with health.  Thus I praise what is in extreme less than the sentiment of “Nothing in excess;” and the wise will agree with me.

CHOR.  O aged woman, faithful nurse of the queen Phaedra, we see indeed the wretched state of this lady, but it is not clear what her disease is:  but we would wish to inquire and hear from you.

NUR.  I know not by my inquiries; for she is not willing to speak.

CHOR.  Nor what is the origin of these pangs?

NUR.  You come to the same result; for she is silent with regard to all these things.

CHOR.  How feeble she is, and wasted away as to her body!

NUR.  How could it be otherwise, seeing that she has abstained from food these three days?

CHOR.  From the violence of her calamity is it, or does she endeavor to die?

NUR.  To die; but she fasts to the dissolution of her life.

CHOR.  An extraordinary thing you have been telling me, if this conduct meets the approbation of her husband.

NUR. [He nothing knows,] for she conceals this calamity, and denies that she is ill.

CHOR.  But does he not guess it, looking into her face?

NUR. [How should he?] for he is out of this country.

CHOR.  But do you not urge it as a matter of necessity, when you endeavor to ascertain her disease and the wandering of her senses?