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| Character | Nurse | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Female | |
| Age Range(s) | Young Adult (20-35), Adult (36-50), Senior (>50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | Persuasive | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Ancient Greek | |
| Genre | Tragedy, Drama | |
| Description | The nurse tries to comfort Phaedra | |
| Location | Episode 2 | |
Summary
Hyppolitus is the illegitimate son of Theseus, the mythical founder-king of Athens, who during the play is in exile in the city of Troezen for having killed another king and his sons. The play centers on Phaedra's (Hippolytus' stepmother) love for her stepson which ultimately leads her to humiliation and suicide. Aphrodite, the goddess of love, inspires Phaedra's mad love as a revenge on Hippolytus for honoring Artemis instead of her. Theseus, thinking that Hippolytus is responsible for his wife's death, punishes him and eventually he is killed. In the end Artemis tells Theseus the truth and Hippolytus forgives his father before he dies.
In the second scene of the play we learn from the Chorus that Phaedra has been feeling sick and hasn't been sleeping or eating. Phaedra has a long conversation with her nurse and eventually confesses that she is feeling ill because of her love for Hippolytus. She wants to keep her honor intact and has decided to kill herself.
In this monologue the nurse tries to comfort Phaedra and convince her to change her mind arguing that her pain is a common one and she must endure.
In the second scene of the play we learn from the Chorus that Phaedra has been feeling sick and hasn't been sleeping or eating. Phaedra has a long conversation with her nurse and eventually confesses that she is feeling ill because of her love for Hippolytus. She wants to keep her honor intact and has decided to kill herself.
In this monologue the nurse tries to comfort Phaedra and convince her to change her mind arguing that her pain is a common one and she must endure.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
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| NURSE My queen, 'tis true thy tale of woe, but lately told, did for the moment strike me with wild alarm, but now I do reflect upon my foolishness; second thoughts are often best even with men. Thy fate is no uncommon nor past one's calculations; thou art stricken by the passion Cypris sends. Thou art in love; what wonder? so are many more. Wilt thou, because thou lov'st, destroy thyself? 'Tis little gain, I trow, for those who love or yet may love their fellows, if death must be their end; for though the Love-Queen's onset in her might is more than man can bear, yet doth she gently visit yielding hearts, and only when she finds a proud unnatural spirit, doth she take and mock it past belief. Her path is in the sky, and mid the ocean's surge she rides; from her all nature springs; she sows the seeds of love, inspires the warm desire to which we sons of earth all owe our being. They who have aught to do with books of ancient scribes, or themselves engage in studious pursuits, know how Zeus of Semele was enamoured, how the bright-eyed goddess of the Dawn once stole Cephalus to dwell in heaven for the love she bore him; yet these in heaven abide nor shun the gods' approach, content, I trow, to yield to their misfortune. Wilt thou refuse to yield? thy sire, it seems, should have begotten thee on special terms or with different gods for masters, if in these laws thou wilt not acquiesce. How many, prithee, men of sterling sense, when they see their wives unfaithful, make as though they saw it not? How many fathers, when their sons have gone astray, assist them in their amours? 'Tis part of human wisdom to conceal the deed of shame. Nor should man aim at too great refinement in his life; for they cannot with exactness finish e'en the roof that covers in a house; and how dost thou, after falling into so deep a pit, think to escape? Nay, if thou hast more of good than bad, thou wilt fare exceeding well, thy human nature considered. O cease, my darling child, from evil thoughts, let wanton pride be gone, for this is naught else, this wish to rival gods in perfectness. Face thy love; 'tis heaven's will thou shouldst. Sick thou art, yet turn thy sickness to some happy issue. For there are charms and spells to soothe the soul; surely some cure for thy disease will be found. Men, no doubt, might seek it long and late if our women's minds no scheme devise. |
