Phaedra says
Ah! anguish as yet untried!
For what new tortures am I still reserved?
All I have undergone, transports of passion,
Longings and fears, the horrors of remorse,
The shame of being spurn’d with contumely,
Were feeble foretastes of my present torments.
They love each other! what secret charm
Have they deceived me? Where, and when, and how
Met they? You knew it all. Why was I cozen’d?
You never told me of those stolen hours
Of amorous converse. Have they oft been seen
Talking together? Did they seek the shades
Of thickest woods? Alas! full freedom had they
To see each other. Heav’n approved their sighs;
They loved without the consciousness of guilt;
And every morning’s sun for them shone clear,
While I, an outcast from the face of Nature,
Shunn’d the bright day, and sought to hide myself.
Death was the only god whose aid I dared
To ask: I waited for the grave’s release.
Water’d with tears, nourish’d with gall, my woe
Was all too closely watch’d; I did not dare
To weep without restraint. In mortal dread
Tasting this dangerous solace, I disguised
My terror ‘neath a tranquil countenance,
And oft had I to check my tears, and smile.