Racine: Phaedra

CALDERON
244
King.— Oh, Segismund,
In all that I have done that seems to you,
And, without further hearing, fairiy seems,
Unnatural and cruel — 'twas not I,
But One who writes His order in the sky
I dared not misinterpret nor neglect,
Who knows with what reluctance
Segismund.— Oh, those stars,
Those stars, that too far up from human blame
To clear themselves, or careless of the charge,
Still bear upon their shining shoulders all
The guilt men shift upon them
King.— Nay, but think:
Not only on the common score of kind,
But that peculiar count of sovereignty
If not behind the beast in brain as heart,
How should I thus deal with my innocent child,
Doubly desired, and doubly dear when come,
As that sweet second-self that all desire.
And princes more than all, to root themselves
By that succession in their people's hearts ?
Unless at that superior Will, to which
Not kings alone, but sovereign nature bows.
Segismund.—And what had those same stars to tell of me
That should compel a father and a king
So much against that double instinct ?
King.— That,
Which I have brought you hither, at my peril.
Against their written warning, to disprove.
By justice, mercy, human kindUness.
Segismund.—And therefore made yourself their instrument
To make your son the savage and the brute
They only prophesied ?—Are you not afear'd.
Lest, irrespective as such creatures are
Of such relationship, the brute you made
Revenge the man you marr'd—like sire, like son,
To do by you as you by me have done ?
King.—You never had a savage heart from me
I may appeal to Poland.
Segismund.— Then from whom?