Phaedra is hesitant and trembling, telling Oenone in an aside that she has forgotten everything she meant to say. Oenone reminds her that her son's fate depends upon her skill in handling Hippolytus, and when she confronts him, she addresses him with all the dignity of a queen. Hippolytus, she says, has lost a father, she a husband; but she has further cause for grief. Her son is fatherless, and she herself is soon to die and leave him defenseless among enemies. Who will protect him, if not his stepbrother? But she fears that by her past harshness to Hippolytus she has turned him against her son.
Hippolytus denies it, and Phaedra intensifies her appeal. It is true that she has sought to have Hippolytus exiled, forbidden anyone to speak his name in her hearing; but this is not because she hates him. Hippolytus accepts this statement. It is natural, he observes, for a stepmother to defend the rights of her own children against her stepson. Any other woman would have behaved in the same way and might have treated him more unkindly.
Phaedra, tormented by his misunderstanding of her true feelings, cries out that she had no such motive; she has a totally different feeling. Hippolytus cuts her off abruptly; after all, he says, she may be troubling herself over nothing; Theseus may still be alive.
Unable to win him to her son's cause without telling the truth, Phaedra embarks on a final plea which rapidly becomes a half-concealed declaration of her love. Theseus will never return, she says, but for her he is not dead; even at this moment he seems to stand before her, and her heart speaks with every word she says to him. Hippolytus is startled and replies that her love for her husband no doubt makes her see him everywhere. Phaedra replies, "Yes, Prince, I languish, I burn . . . for Theseus." Not Theseus as he was, however, unfaithful and amorous; but faithful, proud, shy, charming, young—like the gods, or like Hippolytus. Why, she cries, was it not Hippolytus instead of Theseus who came to Crete to fight the Minotaur, and she instead of Ariadne who had the good fortune to save him?
Hippolytus, staggered, reminds her that she is the wife of Theseus and that she is talking to his son, and for a moment Phaedra regains control. Hippolytus apologizes and, embarrassed, seeks to leave. But Phaedra has gone too far to draw back: "I love you," she declares. Not that she approves of her passion; she detests herself even more than he detests her, and it was to avoid the effects of this love that she drove him away. "Come," she invites him, "this frightful monster ought not to escape you. Here is my heart. Strike home!" Or, if he finds her too contemptible to merit death at his hands, she will take his sword and kill herself before him. And she snatches his sword from its sheath.
Hippolytus, horrified, hears Theramenes arriving, and with only seconds to act, urges her to go and spare them both an open scandal. Phaedra stumbles offstage on Oenone's arm, the sword still in her hand.
Theramenes inquires what has left Hippolytus so shocked, but Hippolytus finds the secret he has just learned is too horrible to repeat. Let it be forgotten. Theramenes tells him his ship is ready for him, but Athens cannot be his destination. The heads of the Athenian tribes have already met and pronounced Phaedra's older son the new king of Athens, with Phaedra as his regent. What is more, a new rumor says that Theseus lives, and is in Epirus.
Hippolytus is incredulous. Can it be the will of the gods that this guilty woman should rule Athens? He goes out to seek his father.
