University of Virginia Library

ACT I.

SCENE I.

A Camp near the Sea Shore. A Fleet at a distance. The Curtain rises and discovers Agamemnon with a Letter in his Hand.
Agam.
Arcas , what hoa! Arcas, awake!
He hears me not: Sweet Sleep seals fast his Eyes.
He is no King, he is no wretched Father,
Who fatally has promis'd his own Child,
To be a bloody Victim to Ambition.
Oh! Agamemnon! Thou hast banish'd Rest
For ever, ever banish'd Peace of Mind,
To grasp the shadow of a mighty Name.
Arcas! I say, what hoa! Arcas.

Enter Arcas.
Arc.
Great Sir, I come—. But what concern
Has rouz'd you from your Bed before the Morn?
There's scarce a glimmering Light to guide our Steps;
All Eyes but yours and mine are clos'd in Aulis
What! Has some welcome noise disturb'd the Air?
And are the Winds propitious to our Wishes?
But, no—All sleeps: The Camp, the Winds, and Neptune.

Agam.
Oh Happy! Who contented with his State,
Free from the Gaudy Thraldom of a Crown
Securely lives in an obscure Retreat!

Arc.
What makes you thus expostulate with Fate?
And hate those Honours, which indulgent Heaven
With lavish Bounty has bestow'd on you?
A Crown is the least blessing you enjoy.
Your Queen and Children both proclaim you Happy;
Descended on each side from mighty Jove,
Hymen unites you still to all the Gods.
Nay, more—, That noble Youth markt out by Fate,
To do those Actions that will pass belief,
Achilles courts your Daughter, and intends
To light the Nuptial Torch on flaming Troy.
What Triumph, Sir, is like that pompous shew
Which Fortune here displays to raise your Glory?
A thousand Sail, fraighted with twenty Kings,
Wait only for a Gale, and your Command,
'Tis true this tedious Calm retards your Conquests;
The fetter'd Winds obstruct your way to Troy;
But then consider, e'en amidst these Honours,
That as you are a Man you must expect
To find the Sweets of Life still mixt with Gall;
And as all things submit to Change, we may—
But, Sir, what means this Letter, and your Tears?
Is young Orestes ill?
Is Clytemnestra or Iphigenia Sick?

Agam.
No, no, thou shalt not die, I'll ne're consent.

[Aside.
Arc.
My Lord!

Agam.
Thou seest my trouble, but now learn the Cause,
And judge if with my Cares I can repose.
Thou well remember'st that long-wish'd-for Day,
When all this numerous Fleet met here in Aulis,
[Pointing to the Navy.
And courted by the Wind to cut the Main,
Had hoisted up her Sails: The shouting Host
Began to threaten Troy's far-distant Shore.
But on a sudden a new Prodigy
Quell'd all our Raptures, and becalm'd the Sea;
Our Ships deserted by the flattering Winds,
Strove, but in vain to ply their feeble Oars.
Surpriz'd, and fall of wonder, I addrest
My Prayers to the fam'd Goddess of this Place,
And then with Menelaus, Nestor, and Ulysses,
I vow'd to her a secret Sacrifice.
But, Oh! What dreadful Answer did I hear,
When Calchas spoke aloud these fatal Words.
“In vain you arm against the Trojan State,
“Unless a Daughter of the Race of Hellen,
“Upon the Altar of Diana dies;
“If you'd obtain the Winds the Heavens deny,
“Sacrifice Iphigenia—

Arc.
Your Daughter!

Agam.
Amaz'd and Speechless for a while I stood:
My trembling Spirits chill'd within my Veins:
But when my broken Voice burst out a Passage,
I curst the Gods and vow'd to disobey.
My first resolve was to dismiss the Army,
Which sly Ulysses seemingly approv'd,
To let my raging Passion take its course.
But soon employing his perswading Arts,
He laid before me all the ties of Honour;
Those Troops and Princes under my Command,
The Eastern Empire fated to be ours,
All that could raise Ambition to a height.
I own that Title of the King of Kings,
Flatter'd the haughty weakness of my Soul.
Besides, the Gods assoon as gloomy Night,
Began to lull my Cares in gentle Slumbers,
With angry Dreams reproach'd my impious Pity,
And threatn'd vengeance to my troubled Mind;
With Tears I yielded and pronounc'd the Doom
Of my unhappy Daughter—.
But now, what barbarous cunning did I use,
To draw her from her Mothers tender Armes!
I sent her Orders to repair to Aulis:
Pretending that Achilles prest to go,
Would wed my Daughter, e're we put to Sea.

Arc.
But fear you not Achilles's boiling Rage?
Think you that unconcern'd he'll calmly see,
His Name abus'd to Sacrifice his Love?

Agam.
Achilles then had left the Camp: To meet
His Father Peleus insulting Foes;
And all expected this new kindled War,
Would for a while employ his early Courage.
But what can stop this Heroes rapid course?
Achilles Fights and Triumphs as he runs,
And vying with the swiftest Wings of Fame,
Return'd last Night to join our wondring Army.

Arc.
And has he learn'd what Fate attends his Bride?

Agam.
He has not—.
But still a stronger motive holds my Arm:
My Daughter who with eager joy approaches,
To meet a longing Lover and a Father,
(The kindest Father as She may suppose)
My Daughter meets inevitable Death.
My Daughter! at that sacred Name I shake;
Yet, 'tis not Blood alone endears her to me,
Her Love, her Piety, her gentle Nature,
A thousand blooming Virtues I regret.
No, no, I'll ne're perform the Sacrifice,
Heaven is too just to own so black a Deed,
And to be Pious I must disobey.

Arc.
But how can you recal your solemn Promise?

Agam.
Thy Zeal and Prudence must perform that Task:
I know, the Queen at Sparta try'd thy Faith;
Here take this Letter and convey it to her.
Prevent my Daughters coming: For when once
She's seen in Aulis, her Fate's past recal.
The Gods and Chalchas will demand their Victim,
Controul my Tenderness and slight our Tears;
Th'affrighted Grecians, jealous of my Power,
With holy Boldness will protect their claim,
Insult my woe; perhaps quash my Command.
Go, Save her from the Gods, from my Ambition.
But have a care not to reveal my secret;
Let not my Daughter know what ill I meant her.
Spare me the loud Reproaches of a Wife;
Spare me the soft Upbraidings of a Daughter;
And that thy Tongue may sute with what I write,
Tell them Achilles having chang'd his Mind,
Defers the Nuptial Rites till we return;
That young Eriphile, his Lesbian Captive,
Who now attends my Daughter, is suppos'd
To be the cause of his indifference.
Let them Divine the rest—. Approaching Day
Bids thee to be gone: Depart. But who comes here?
[Exit. Arcas.
Gods! 'Tis Achilles: What! Ulysses with him?

[A flourish of Trumpets.
Enter Achilles, Ulysses.
Agam.
My Lord, I see with pleasing Admiration,
Your swift return with Victory and Fame;
If these are the Essays of untaught Valour,
What Triumphs must attend your riper Courage?
Lesbos subdu'd, all Thessaly reduc'd,
Which seem'd to ask a Hero's tedious Toil,
Prov'd only an Amusement to Achilles.

Achil.
My Lord, you over-rate a trifling Conquest:
And may the Gods open a nobler Field,
To merit the great Prize you have propos'd,
To animate my Courage. But, My Lord,
Must I believe the joyful News I hear?
That to anticipate my distant Bliss,
Fair Iphigenia comes to the Camp,
To Crown my Wishes?

Agam.
My Daughter!
Who told you she's to come?

Achil.
You seem surpriz'd, my Lord, at this Report?

Agam.
Heav'n! How I fear my secret is reveal'd
[To Ulysses.
And all my cunning lost!

Ulys.
My Lord, the King's surprize
[To Achilles.
Is but to just: Good Gods! Is this a time
To think on Nuptial Joys, when angry Heaven
Strikes terror through the Camp? Whilst a dead Sea
Affrights all Greece, and wastes our lingring Army;
Whilst to appease the unrelenting Gods,
A Victim, a dear Victim must be Sacrific'd,
Achilles minds his Love, as if he meant
T'insult the publick Woes; must Agamemnon
Exasperate our Fate with Festivals?
Is this, my Lord, the tender Love you shew,
To your afflicted Country?

Achil.

Agam.
Oh! Heaven! Why must thy secret Envy stop
The way to Asia, to such noble Heroes?
Must I be witness of so bright a Valour,
Only to withdraw home, with Grief and Shame?

Ulys.
Ye Gods! What do I hear?

Achil.
My Lord, What's that you utter'd?

Agam.
Princes, we must retire: Too long the Winds
Have tir'd our credulous Hopes with Expectation:
Th'inexorable Gods are stubborn in denying;
Troy's under their protection, and dire Omens
Forbid we should pursue our first Resolve.

Achil.
What are these Omens that Heaven's Anger shew?

Agam.
My Lord, you may consult what Heaven foretells,
About your self; 'Tis known to all the Camp,
That the whole fate of Troy depends on you.
But then consider, that your Life's the Price,
On which the Gods have rated that dear Conquest.

Achil.
Thus all those Princes, whom your wrongs have summon'd,
Must now retire with Shame and Infamy,
And leave you unreveng'd: Whilst the Adulterer
Securely keeps your Clytemnestra's Sister.

Agam.
My Lord, your Valour
Which did anticipate our warlike Toils,
Has it not gloriously, reveng'd those Wrongs?
The woes you spread through all the Lesbian State,
Keep still affrighted all th'Ægean Sea;
Troy saw with terror your devouring Flames,
And even into its Port the rolling Waves,
Carried the dismal tokens of your Victory.
Nay, more—The Trojans mourn a second Hellen,
Which now remains your Prisoner at Mycene,
For 'tis in vain this Captive Beauty strives,
To keep a secret which her Pride betrays,
And e'en her silence speaks a noble Birth.

Achil.
You pry too far into the Gods Decrees:
Besides, think you, my Lord, those frivolous Threats,
Will 'ere deter Achilles from pursuing,
Honour and Glory under your Command?
What if the fatal Sisters did fortell.
When first my Mother yielded to th'Embrace
Of mortal Peleus, that I might choose,
Either to live for many Years obscure,
Or gain eternal Fame by courting early Death?
For since I must at last submit to Fate,
I'll ne're be niggard of a Goddess's Blood.
When Honour calls, let Oracles be silent—
I own th'Almighty Gods controul our Lives,
But Honour, Sir, depends on our own Actions;
Then let us not regard what they Decree,
But rather strive to equal their Condition
By our immortal Deeds. Now since at Troy
Both Fame and Victory attend, I fly,
And only ask the Winds to waft me o're.
Let all th'affrighted Greeks retire with Shame,
I and Patroclus will besiege the City,
And venge your Wrongs. But no, 'tis you Great Sir,
To whom the Gods reserve this Victory;
Therefore all my Ambition is to wait
On your Commands: And now I wave a Marriage
Which call'd me from the Camp: My dutious Love
Bids me consult your Honour and your Fame.
I will Cheer up the Soldiers, and Secure you
From those weak Souls who whisper frightful Tales.
[Exit Achilles

Ulys.
My Lord, You see that nothing can remove,
His fixt Design of Marching against Troy;
We fear'd his Love, but he himself this Day,
Has furnish'd us with Reasons to oppose it.

Agam.
Alas! Fond Youth!

Ulys.
You Sigh, My Lord, as if
You felt the Murmurs of rebellious Nature?
Shall I believe one Night could shake your Mind,
And stagger your Resolve? But, Sir, remember,
By solemn Vows you have resign'd your Daughter,
Calchas, whom all the Greeks consult each Day
Depends upon your Promise, and foretells
That the propitious Winds will soon return.
If his Predictions should now prove abortive,
Think you, my Lord, he'll not arraign your Weakness?
T'assert the Cause of the Immortal Gods,
And prove the Truth of their prophetick Answers?
Think you the Greeks provok'd by your Denial,
Will calmly see the Oracles contemn'd,
And their Religion scorn'd? Beware, my Lord,
And fear the Rage of superstitious Zeal.

Agam.
Barbarous Fate!

Ulys.
Yet more, my Lord, it was your pressing Call,
Has Summon'd all the Grecians to this Shore,
By challenging the Promise of those Princes,
Who Rivall'd Menelaus, and Courted Hellen;
For we all Swore to Tyndarus her Father,
That when his Choice was fixt on any one,
The rest would yield their Claims, and with Confederate Force
Punish the bold outragious Ravisher,
That durst insult the happy Husband's Rights.
But as 'twas Love that wrested this fond Oath,
So that Love ceasing it had been neglected.
'Twas you that drew us from the soft Embrace,
Of our dear Consorts, and our dearer Children;
Yet, when a noble Fire t'avenge your Wrongs,
Does animate the Camp: When Greece proclaims
Your Zeal and Wisdom: Nay, when twenty Kings
Will Sacrifice their Lives in your Defence,
You, Sir, alone refuse the glorious purchase
Of Honour and Revenge; a little Blood
You think too dear to gain immortal Fame.
Must It be said, the General of Greece
Employ'd his skill in nothing but Commanding
A safe Retreat?

Agam.
Alas! my Lord, how easily, whilst secure
From my impending Woes, you seem undaunted!
But was your Son Telemachus the Victim,
How soon the ghastly image of his Death,
Would turn to Tears your proud insulting Speech?
How deep you'd feel the Torments I endure
From struggling Nature! And how swift you'd fly
To snatch him from the Priest! Yet since my promises past,
If my unhappy Daughter meets us here,
I'll not recall it, but if kinder Fate
Prevents her coming, you'll not think it strange,
If I accept the welcome Help of Heaven;
Too long your Counsels have prevail'd upon me,
I blush to think on't—

Enter Eurybates.
Euryb.
My Lord—

Agam.
Gods! The News?

Euryb.
The Queen bid me haste
To tell you her Approach: And that she brings
Her Daughter, to resign her to your Arms.
She had arriv'd before, but that she lost
Her way, through those thick Woods that shrowd the Camp.

Agam.
Oh! Heav'n!

Euryb.
They are attended
By young Eriphile, Achilles's Lesbian Captive,
Who being unacquainted with the Parents,
Designs to learn her Fate from Renown'd Chalchas.
The News of their arrival is now spread
Through all the Camp, and with loud Acclamations,
The joyful Soldiers crowd about the Queen,
And your fair Daughter; some enquire the Cause
That brings them hither: Others are contented,
To pray the Gods for their Prosperity.
But with a common Voice, all bless their General,
As the most glorious King, and happy Father.

Agam.
'Tis well—, you may retire—, I'll make them welcome.
Exit. Eurybates.
Thus to secure its Vengeance, angry Heaven
Breaks all the Measures of my Policy!
Yet if I was allow'd the Priviledge
Of soothing Tears, it were some Comfort! But
The barbarous Fate of Kings sets us on high,
To lie expos'd to all the Bolts of Fortune,
And be a gazing-stock to those below.
Thus still beset by troublesom Spectators,
Tho' most unhappy, we must least complain.

Ulys.
My Lord, I am a Father, nay, a tender Father,
Who feelingly resents your cruel Woe:
I shudder at the stroke that makes you sigh,
And e'en would weep to countenance your Tears.
But your denial can have no Excuse,
The Gods have brought their Victim to the Camp,
Calchas expects it, and will soon demand it.
Yet, whilst we are alone, let flowing Tears
Express your Sorrow: Your concern allows them.
But, no—, let rather your undaunted Soul
Consider the vast Glory you shall reap.
Behold the Hellespont yields to our Oars;
Behold our Flames devour perfidious Troy;
Her Subjects made your Slaves; King Priamus
Grasping your Knees, and Helena restor'd.
Behold our numerous Fleet returns to Aulis
Crown'd with success: Behold that pompous Triumph,
That will be the fam'd Tale of After-ages.

Agam.
My Lord, I find how weak and impotent,
All my Efforts would be t'oppose the Gods.
And since it is decreed, that Innocence
Must be opprest, I—, no—, I'll never yield:
Oh! Cruel Fate! Inexorable Gods!

Ulys.
My Lord, remember
Your solemn Vows, and dread th'Almighty Powers.
Consult your Safety—; Nay, consult your Honour.

Agam.
Oh! Hard Necessity!
Oh! Wretched Father! Yet engage the Priest
To Silence for a while: Let me, at least,
Be Guiltless for one Moment: Let me hide,
From Clytemnestra, my black, barbarous Arts;
And spare her tender Heart the cruel Sight,
Of a dear Daughter bleeding on an Altar.
[Exit. Agamemnon.

Ulys.
I've done my Task: Nature and Love give way,
The Gods and Honour bear the Sovereign Sway.