Racine: Phaedra

LIFE A DREAM aa^
King.— Oh, Clotaldo!
Though thus far well, yet would myself had drunk
The potion he revives from ! such suspense
Crowds all the pulses of life's residue
Into the present moment ; and, I think,
Whichever way the trembling scale may turn.
Will leave the crown of Poland for some one
To wait no longer than the setting sun!
Clotaldo.—Courage, my liege ! The curtain is undrawn,
And each must play his part out manfully,
Leaving the rest to heav'n.
King.— Whose written words
If I should misinterpret or transgress!
But as you say
[To the Lord, who exits] You, back to him at once;
Clotaldo, you, when he is somewhat used
To the new world of which they call him Prince,
Where place and face, and all, is strange to him.
With your known features and familiar garb
Shall then, as chorus to the scene, accost him.
And by such earnest of that old and too
Familiar world, assure him of the new.
Last in the strange procession, I myself
Will by one full and last development
Complete the plot for that catastrophe
grant it be
That he must put to all ; God
The crown of Poland on his brows !—Hark ! hark !—
Was that his voice within?—Now louder—Oh,
Clotaldo, what ! so soon begun to roar !
Again! above the music—But betide
What may, until the moment, we must hide.
[Exeunt King and Clotaldo.
Segismund [imthin].—Forbear! I stifle with your perfume!
cease
Your crazy salutations! peace, I say
Begone, or let me go, ere I go mad
With all this babble, mummery, and glare.
For I am growing dangerous—Air ! room ! air !
[He rushes in. Music ceases.
Oh but to save the reeling brain from wreck