I love, I must confess, that generous pride,
Which has never bent beneath a yoke of sighs...
To make an unyielding courage bend,
To make that unfeeling heart of his feel pain,
To fetter a captive astonished by his chains,
Fighting the yoke, that delights him so, in vain:
That’s what I wish, that is what excites me.
To disarm Hippolytus counts for more than Hercules:
Often vanquished, and defeated more swiftly,
To the eyes that tamed him offering less glory.
From Racine's Phedre
I had fun translating this =)
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