This monologue is a really extraordinary piece of writing. We know that Hippolytus is wrongly accused, we know that everything which is happening to him is the product of a spiteful deity who has taken umbrage at his lack of worship. And yet, he is so relentlessly unpleasant that it is genuinely hard to sympathize with him, even as we know he is being wronged. The horrible rant he delivered after the nurse had told him about Phaedra’s love for him still hangs over us: he is not just uninterested in sex, he’s disgusted by it, disgusted by women wanting it. Of course, it’s very much up to a director to decide how that monologue should work: if Phaedra is played by an older woman, it becomes a story of that taboo as well as the fact that they are related by marriage. But not by blood: there would be nothing stopping Phaedra and Hippolytus getting married if Theseus were to die. For an ancient audience her crime is adulterous desire, more than an incestuous lust for a younger man. It is perfectly possible that the two could be virtually the same age. Phaedra is Ariadne’s younger sister and her children are still young. And in some later versions of the play, Theseus has been absent for so long that the characters believe him to be dead, which also removes the adultery issue （for an ancient audience – we might still find it troubling） until he reappears, alive after all.
Our distaste for Hippolytus has already been formed in the first half of the play: he is obnoxious when one of his attendants suggests that he owes some respect to Aphrodite, he is hateful when the nurse reveals Phaedra’s secret. It is not just Phaedra he despises, but all women, as he explains at length. He threatens to break his vow, which will destroy Phaedra and – she believes – her children’s future. And now, Euripides creates this second remarkable monologue, where Hippolytus only speaks the truth: he has been wrongfully accused, he is virginal, and we know he cannot speak further without perjuring himself. He is a little disingenuous once or twice, praising himself for revering the gods37 when we know that his reverence does not extend to Aphrodite, and swearing he has no idea why Phaedra might have killed herself （although his oath prevents him from saying more）。
Yet still – thanks to Euripides’ skill and control – Hippolytus has already been so unlikeable that we struggle to care as much as we might at the terrible injustice he experiences. This is true for the characters onstage too: Theseus is unwavering in his belief that his son is a monster. We might think that this is simply indicative of Theseus being a good husband and believing his wife. But he doesn’t even consider, for example, that Phaedra’s letter might have been written by someone else. Letters are intrinsically untrustworthy in Greek myth, incidentally. Writing in general is treated with great scepticism. The chorus aren’t especially helpful either: they think Hippolytus will be believed by his father, but they don’t rush in to sympathize with him, even as Theseus and his son argue further. Theseus banishes Hippolytus on the spot, and demands that his men drag the young man away. Then a few moments later, a messenger arrives to tell Theseus that his son is dying, crushed against the rocks when his horses fled in terror from a giant bull that rose from the sea. Poseidon’s curse was real, and deadly.
Theseus has no regrets, but concedes that the men may carry his son back to the palace to see him before he dies. Finally, Artemis appears. She tells Theseus that Phaedra had lied, that Hippolytus was innocent. Tells him that his curse was the cause of Hippolytus’ death. Tells him that Aphrodite was the cause, and that she – Artemis – had to allow it to happen, even though Hippolytus was her favourite. She adds that Theseus is not fully to blame, because he acted in anger before he knew the facts. Hippolytus, dying, is carried onstage, and he forgives Theseus. When Artemis explains that the whole awful day has been plotted by Aphrodite, Hippolytus replies: she has destroyed the three of us.38 Artemis leaves the stage explaining that, just as Aphrodite has killed her beloved favourite, now she will do the same thing in revenge. Hippolytus dies.
There is a melancholy symmetry to this play: the first half ends with Phaedra’s death, the second with Hippolytus dying. All parties blame Aphrodite: Phaedra, Hippolytus, Theseus （his final words in the play are a rebuke to the goddess） and Artemis. There is no doubt in any of their minds that she has been responsible for everything that happened. Phaedra is one human agent of destruction: she kills herself and makes her deadly false accusation. But the nurse also takes some responsibility: however well-meaning, her blabbing to Hippolytus is what exacerbates the crisis.