編輯推薦
歐裏庇得斯,前485或480年——前406年)與埃斯庫羅斯和索福剋勒斯並稱為希臘三大悲劇大師。
內容簡介
A modern translation exclusive to signetFrom perhaps the greatest of the ancient Greek playwrights comes this collection of plays, including Alcestis, Hippolytus, Ion, Electra, Iphigenia at Aulis, Iphigenia Among the Taurians, Medea, The Bacchae, The Trojan Women, and The Cyclops.
歐裏庇得斯民主政治衰落時期的悲劇詩人。在智者學派的影響下,他對神和命運之類的觀念提齣瞭異議。他所錶現的神往往是荒謬的。在他看來,命運不是生前注定的,取決於人們自己的行為。他擁護雅典的民主製度,但對它日益暴露齣的危機感到憂慮。特彆是在內戰期間的各種現實問題,在他的悲劇中獲得瞭深刻的反映。對於雅典進行的不義戰爭,對於對外侵略、對內剝削的高壓政策,對於壓迫和虐待奴隸的問題,對於社會上存在的貧富懸殊、男女不平等、道德敗壞的嚴重現象,都進行瞭揭露和批判。此書包括《美狄亞》、《希波呂托斯》、《特洛伊婦女》、《酒神的伴侶》等。
作者簡介
Euripides was a voluminous writer, the number of his plays being variously stated at from seventy-five to ninety-two, including several satyric dramas. Of these nineteen have survived, with numerous fragments of others, though many of his best works have been lost and more have suffered from interpolations. He began his public career as a dramatist when twenty-four years of age, but was nearly twice as old when he gained his first decisive victory, winning the first prize only four times during his life and once after his death. Yet he was highly esteemed, not only in Athens but throughout the Hellenic world, and as Plutarch tells us, some of the Athenian captives, after the disaster of Syracuse, obtained their liberty by reciting passages from his dramas.
歐裏庇得斯,前485或480年——前406年)與埃斯庫羅斯和索福剋勒斯並稱為希臘三大悲劇大師,他一生共創作瞭九十多部作品,保留至今的有十八部。
歐裏庇得斯(英文Euripides,公元前480年——前406年)與埃斯庫羅斯和索福剋勒斯並稱為希臘三大悲劇大師,他一生共創作瞭九十多部作品,保留至今的有十八部。對於歐裏庇得斯的評價,古往今來一嚮褒貶不一,有人說他是最偉大的悲劇作傢,也有人說悲劇在他的手中衰亡,無論這些評價如何反復,無庸置疑的是歐裏庇得斯的作品對於後世的影響是深遠的。歐裏庇得斯民主政治衰落時期的悲劇詩人。在智者學派的影響下,他對神和命運之類的觀念提齣瞭異議。他所錶現的神往往是荒謬的。在他看來,命運不是生前注定的,取決於人們自己的行為。他擁護雅典的民主製度,但對它日益暴露齣的危機感到憂慮。特彆是在內戰期間的各種現實問題,在他的悲劇中獲得瞭深刻的反映。對於雅典進行的不義戰爭,對於對外侵略、對內剝削的高壓政策,對於壓迫和虐待奴隸的問題,對於社會上存在的貧富懸殊、男女不平等、道德敗壞的嚴重現象,都進行瞭揭露和批判。正因為如此,他不能見諒於雅典當局,晚年不得不客居馬其頓並在那裏去世。
精彩書摘
Euripides Ten Plays By Euripides Signet Classics Copyright ? 1998 Euripides All right reserved. ISBN: 0451527003 Chapter One Hippolytus Translated by Richard Moore Cast APHRODITE, goddess of love, also called Cypris ARTEMIS, virgin goddess of hunting HIPPOLYTUS, son of Theseus HUNTSMEN MESSENGER NURSE of Phaedra PHAEDRA, wife of Theseus, stepmother of Hippolytus SERVANT THESEUS, king of Athens and Troezen CHORUS of Troezen women (Statue of Aphrodite, left; statue of Artemis, right; palace door, center. Choral space between audience and stage. Aphrodite enters from her image.) APHRODITE Everyone knows me. I'm Cypris, the goddess. Sex and desire, my specialties, draw men helpless from Pontus to Heracles' Pillars. Those that delight in me, I can reward them; those that detest me will harvest my hatred. Even immortals get caught in my soft snares. Goddesses love it when worshipers gather. Listen: I'll prove that this very hour. There is a fellow, King Theseus' young son, huntsman Hippolytus, lover of horses, born of an Amazon lady in Athens. Grandfather Pittheus raised the boy here in Troezen because of his unmarried mother. Hates me, this fellow. The thought of me sickens. Hates love's bed, scorns pleasures of marriage, worships instead prim Artemis, huntress, Phoebus' sister and Zeus' proud daughter; says she's the sacredest thing in the heavens. Never can leave her, adores her, his maiden. There with his dogs hunts beasts in the forest, he and his she-spirit blessing each other. Why should that bother me? Why should I mind that? Well, my Hippolytus, you shall pay dear, dear. All is prepared, and the path lies open. Not that I'll work very hard at it, mind you. Oh, it was years ago now when it started. Theseus, bringing a sexy new consort, Phaedra dear, home to his kingdom in Athens, thought: now what of Hippolytus, young boy got on that Amazon lady I mentioned? That's when he sent him to grandfather Pittheus here to be raised as the ruler of Troezen. But, as it happened, he went back to Athens once, to take part in the mysteries held there. Phaedra caught sight of him, heart in her throbbing shamefully: she was the wife of his father, she, proud ladyship, gripped in a raging criminal lust for him. That was my doing. Then, before coming to Troezen herself, she built me a shrine on a storm-lashed headland, visible here in the city, and called it, "Love from afar," for Hippolytus: wishes. ("Goddess, be seated!" our aftertimes call it.) Meanwhile Theseus, dealing with uncles, shed much blood, so he took a vacation, hoping for calm, and he moved his young family here, where Hippolytus lives. Here Phaedra wastes away, stung by her furious longings, dies of them, agonized; dares, though, no word breathe of it, guiltily hoarding her sickness. Terrified servants in wonderment whisper. Ah, but the truth of it's sure to get out soon, Theseus hear of it ... that I will see to. Oh then loudly he'll cry to Poseidon, call down curses the Sea God promised, down on that hateful Hippolytus, sweep him deep under earth ... poor Phaedra, devoted ... Oh what a pity! for she will die also, nevertheless with her name unsullied; still, she must die. How else can my proud foes learn that it's most unwise to insult me? Look there: Theseus' boy is approaching, beautiful man, and his hunting is over, lordly Hippolytus. Best that I leave now. Followers come with him, raising their clamor, filling the day with his Artemis ditties. Hasn't a clue that the Underworld's waiting. This day's light won't end till it ends him. (Exit. Enter Hippolytus and huntsmen.) HIPPOLYTUS Sing of her, sing of her, sing of sweet Artemis, Zeus' great daughter cares for us ever. HUNTSMEN Lady, lady, most holy, Zeus' great daughter, joy to you, joy to you, daughter of Zeus and of Leto, fairest of maidens high in the heavenly courts of your father glittering, golden, fairest of all on Olympus. HIPPOLYTUS Lady, this wreath from an untouched meadow, picked for you, woven with my own fingers, where no shepherded flocks, no farmer's plow has invaded, but only the bees in the springtime frequented, spirit of reverence tilled it, coaxed from the nearby stream sweet waters: men who have learned things, dominant sure ones, they have been left out, they have no place here. Untaught modesty gathers your flowers, leaving those impure spirits excluded. Queen of my being, accept this wreath now, meant for your glorious hair, all golden. I among mortals alone, great goddess, speak with you, hear you alone in the darkness, never have seen you, nor do I hope to. Let life end for me as you began it! SERVANT Only the gods have the title of master: would you consider a piece of advice, Prince? HIPPOLYTUS Fool I would be, good friend, if I wouldn't. SERVANT One great rule for us mortals--you know it? HIPPOLYTUS Know what? I don't understand what you're saying. SERVANT Men can get fall of themselves, lack friendship. HIPPOLYTUS Right. People full of themselves will deserve that. SERVANT And your relaxed ones tend to be charming? HIPPOLYTUS Definitely, and it costs them nothing. SERVANT (pointing to the sky) There among gods, things also are like that? HIPPOLYTUS Doubtless. We copy immortals, so yes, friend. SERVANT Furious goddesses, Prince, we should placate? HIPPOLYTUS Which goddess? Tell me, and watch what you're saying. SERVANT (pointing to the statue of Aphrodite) This goddess standing right here now, Cypris. HIPPOLYTUS That one chastely I greet from a distance. SERVANT Still, though, terrible, glorious is she. HIPPOLYTUS Bedtime goddesses, friend, you can keep them. SERVANT Honor all goddesses, or you'll regret it. HIPPOLYTUS Some choose one goddess, others another. SERVANT Luck to you, Prince, I'm afraid you may need it. HIPPOLYTUS Inside, followers! Look to our supper! After a good hunt, eating's a pleasure. You there, rub down my horses, and when we've eaten our fill, we'll go chariot riding. I say, Joy to you, Cypris, stay far off. (Exit.) SERVANT We say, young fools need not be mimicked. We who must serve in humility, humbly worship you, Cypris, and beg of you, dear one, try to forgive youth's follies, forgive him. Goddesses ought to be wiser than mortals. (Exeunt. Enter Chorus of Troezen women.) CHORUS Cliff in the mountains, flowing with water far from the ocean, fair to be scooped up, filling our pitchers, there a companion, washing our garments, spread them for drying, warm on the rock face-- there I heard news of my Queen. Lying afflicted, feverish, sickened there in her bedroom three long days now, nothing to nourish poor wracked body, golden hair shrouded: what secret grieving drives her life's voyage, soon to be harbored in death? Is it the wildness of forests deeply invades you, oh my suffering queen? Hecate's spirit or Pan's, mad Corybantian revels, honoring mountain-born Cybele? Have you sinned against Artemis, queen of all hunters? Dear, are you tainted? Is it the Lakelady lost in the eddying surf? Maybe your husban
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