Racine: Phaedra

248
CALDERON
Segismund.—He prophesies ; the old man prophesies
And, at his trumpet's summons, from the tower
The leash-bound shadows loosen'd after me
My rising glory reach and over-lour
But, reach not I my height, he shall not hold,
But with me back to his own darkness
[He dashes toward the throne and is enclosed by the soldiers.
Traitors
Hold off! Unhand me!—Am not I your king?
And you would strangle him !
But I am breaking with an inward fire
Shall scorch you off, and wrap me on the wings
Of conflagration from a kindled pyre
Of lying prophecies and prophet-kings
Above the extinguish'd stars—Reach me the sword
He flung me—Fill me such a bowl of wine
As that you woke the day with
King.— And shall close
But of the vintage that Clotaldo knows.
ACT THIRD
Scene I. The Tozver, as in Scene I. of Act First. Segismund,
as at first, and Clotaldo.
Clotaldo.—Princes and princesses, and counsellors,
Fluster'd to right and left—my life made at
But that was nothing
Even the white-hair'd, venerable King
Seized on—Indeed, you made wild work of it
And so discover'd in your outward action,
Flinging your arms about you in your sleep,
Grinding your teeth—and, as I now remember.
Woke mouthing out judgment and execution,
On those about you.
Segismund.— Ay, I did indeed.
Clotaldo.—Ev'n now your eyes stare wild ; your hair stands
up—