Racine: Phaedra

DaS
CALDERON
But come—already weary with your travel,
And ill refresh'd by this strange history,
Until the hours that draw the sun from heav'n
Unite us at the customary board,
Each to his several chamber : you to rest
I to contrive with old Clotaldo best
The method of a stranger thing than old
Time has as yet among his records told. [Exeunt.
ACT SECOND
Scene I. A Throne-room in the Palace. Music within. Enter
King and Clotaldo, meeting a Lord in waiting.
King.—You, for a moment beckon'd from your office,
Tell me thus far how goes it. In due time
The potion left him?
Lord.— At the very hour
To which your Highness temper'd it. Yet not
So wholly but some lingering mist still hung
About his dawning senses—which to clear,
We fill'd and handed him a morning drink
With sleep's specific antidote suffused
And while with princely raiment we invested
What nature surely modell'd for a Prince
All but the sword—as you directed
King. Ay
Lord.—If not too loudly, yet emphatically
Still with the title of a Prince address'd him.
King.—How bore he that?
Lord.— With all the rest, my liege,
I will not say so like one in a dream
As one himself misdoubting that he dream'd.
King.—So far so well, Clotaldo, either way,
And best of all if tow'rds the worse I dread.
But yet no violence ?
Lord.— At most, impatience;
Wearied perhaps with importunities
We yet were bound to offer.