University of Virginia Library

ACT V.

SCENE I.

Enter Iphigenia and Ægina.
Iph.
Away! Return to my distracted Mother.
Behold, the mighty Gods will be obey'd,
They vindicate their Claim; didst thou not see
The general Camp in Arms oppose our Flight,
While all their glittering Javelins pointed round us
Deny'd a Passage, and repuls'd our Guards?
What, shall I wait till the licentious Soldiers
Drag their Unwilling Victim to the Shrine?
—My Father too—Alas! tho' Heav'n remits
The fatal Sentence, he demands my Life.

Ægi.
Your Father! Iphigenia?

Iph.
Yes, the King.
Achilles has offended him, and I
Must punish the brave Prince with my Disdain;
Thus I am doom'd a double Sacrifice.
He sent by Arcas to explain his Wishes,
That I wou'd ne'er receive Achilles more,
Or favour with a Word that faithful Lover.

Ægi.
What, not One Word, One tender last Farewel,
E'er the sharp Steel divides you both for ever?

Iph.
Ah Cruel Sentence!—Rigorous Cnmmand!
The Gods, more gentle, only ask my Life.
Dye then;—Obey;—But see, Ægina, see,
Achilles comes—Support me, or I faint.

[Rests on Ægina's Arm.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Haste, Iphigenia; Follow me your Guide;
Fear not the Noise of those tumultuous Crouds,
Which gather round the Tent in pressing Swarms;
Appear, and you shall see those dastard Troops
Open before our Arms a ready Passage.
Patroclus, and some chosen Leaders, wait
To Execute whate'er Commands I give.
My Troops all watchful, ready to their Arms,
And rang'd beneath their Standards, wait my Orders.
My bold Thessalians, wedg'd in close Array,
The firm Embody'd Phalanx, Foot to Foot,
And Target lock'd in Target, shall oppose
The Barrier of their Ranks invincible.
From that Assylum who shall dare to Force thee?
—What! dost thou only answer me with Tears?
Already hast thou try'd their feeble Aid.
How did they move th'inexorable Father?
What other hope, what help canst thou expect?

Iph.
I have no hope, but from that Mortal Blow,
Which will for ever end my Hopes and Fears.

Achil.
Cease, cease this melancholy Talk of Death
Think how we are oblig'd; how both engaged:
Oh think, if nothing else can move your Heart,
My Happiness depends upon your Life.

Iph.
Your Happiness depends upon my Death.
Consider yet what Harvests of full Fame
The Goddess Victory presents your Arms;
Those glorious Fields, which your aspiring Soul,
Impatient for the War, burns to possess,
Are barren, if not sprinkled with my Blood:
Such is the Law of Fate; so to Atrides
The Gods, the People, and the Priests proclaim.
—Farewel, brave Prince; thank those immortal Powers,
Who thus remove that fatal Obstacle
Which barr'd your Arms, and check'd your rising Glories.

Achil.
I'll hold 'em both—My Mistress and my Glory
Divide my Soul—Nor Gods nor Men shall part us.

Iph.
Go, signalize this promis'd Grecian Hero,
Turn all your Vengeance on your Country's Foes.
Priam is pale with Fear, all Troy alarm'd,
Shakes at my Name—repays your Grief in Blood,
And drops a Citizen for every Tear.
—Tho' Heav'n denies me what of Earthly Blessings
My Heart cou'd most desire, to live your Bride,
I shall dye satisfy'd—when I believe.
My Death—the Source of your Immortal Glory,
Will open to the World the Deathless Hero.
—Once more Farewel—Farewel, immortal Man,
Worthy the Godlike Race from whence you sprung.

Achil.
I cannot, must not take this dreadful Farewel.
In vain with artful Words you strive to elude
My tender Love, thus obstinate to die.
How can my Fame be built upon your Ruin?
These Laurel Harvests, Honours, Conquests, Glories,
Are all preserv'd in saving her I love.
With what Contempt will all the Grecian Princes
Regard my Arms, when they behold me suffer,
With Coward Tameness, this most horrid Rape?
My Love, my Glory only live with you:
Trust to my Guidance, let me guard and lead you

[Offering to lead her.
Iph.
What? shall I then Rebel against my Father?
I shou'd deserve the Death I strove to shun.
Oh where wou'd be that Duty, that Obedience?

Ach.
'Tis due to me, your promis'd Lord—Your Husband
I boast that glorious Title—Agamemnon
Shall never rob me of the sacred Promise.
Canst thou, severely Dutiful and Just,
Refuse Obedience to thy Father's Will
In this alone; and yet with rigid Piety
Receive his absolute Commands to die?
[Takes her Hand.
—Haste, the Time flies, my Princess; and I fear—

Iph.
Achilles, wou'd you force me from my Duty?
Warm'd with the guilty Transports of your Love,
You know not how you load my suffering Heart.
Away, rash Man—My Glory and my Honour
Ought to be dearer to you than my Life.
—If this seems Cruel, Oh forgive a Wretch
Oblig'd to Laws which all the Just obey.
—I have been Guilty but to hear you speak;
Oh carry your unjust Success no farther,
Lest I should fall, shou'd bleed by my own Hands,
To free my self from these Extremities,
These dangerous Succours which your Love presents.

Achil.
'Tis well!—no more! Obey their bloody Call:
Haste, satisfie your strange Religious Glory.
—Hah! since for Human Sacrifice they thirst,
The Funeral Pyle shall float in human Blood,
The lying Priests shall fall the foremost Victims:
I'll Sacrifice a Hecatomb of Priests.
Their Temple too shall flame; the Hive and Drones
Consume at once.—And while the mingled Blaze
Shoots thro' the Vaulted Dome, I shall behold,
My Vengeance full, and riot in Destruction.
—What is not lawful to Despair and Rage?
And if, amidst these Horrours, these Disorders,
Your Father too shou'd perish in the Croud,
Know 'tis the Effect of your too rigid Duty;
Your obstinate Obedience ruin'd all
[Exit Achilles.

Iphigenia alone.
Iph.
My Lord! Achilles, Oh Return—He's gone.
Determine, ye just Gods, my Life and Fears:
Let all your Vengeance be compleated here.

Enter Clyt. Ægina, Euribates, and Officers as Guards.
Clyt.
Yes, I'll oppose the World to save my Child.
What, Traitors, would you then betray your Queen?

Eur.
Command us, Madam, you shall see us die
To prove our Faith—But what can we perform
Against those numerous Crouds that pour upon us?
'Tis not the Rage of a disorder'd Rout;
The Camp is all inflam'd with fatal Zeal;
Calchas commands, Calchas is King in Aulis.
Atrides, dispossess'd of all his Power,
Yields and is born away by the swift Torrent.
Achilles, tho' Unconquerable, here
Will find the Work too mighty for his Courage.

Clyt.
Here let 'em point their impious Zeal on me,
Take the Remainder of a wretched Being;
Yet I'll defend her Life, I'll grasp her hard,
And in the Pangs of Death, protect and save her.
My separating Soul may leave this Body,
But never part from her—Oh! my dear Child,
[Seeing her.
Do I behold again my Iphigenia?

Iph.
What Cruel Planet rul'd my mournful Birth?
Why was I born to aggravate your Sorrows,
And make you feel th'extremity of Woe?
—Yet let us learn with patient Meek Indurance
To bear our Fate—Oh, Clytemnestra, think,
How vainly we contend with Gods and Men.
Would it avail me, to behold my Mother
Left to the Rage of a Rebellious People;
And with unworthy Treatment drag'd about
As a Despiser of the Gods and Justice?
Go—let the Greeks perform their pious Work?
And leave, for ever leave this bloody Shoar.
My Funeral Pile will soon in Flames arise;
That dreadful Sight must break your tender Heart.
—But one Word more, the last Request I make,
I beg you by your Love—by your Indulgence,
Reproach not my dear Father with my Death.

Clyt.
What, shall I not reproach thy Murtherer?

Iph.
He gave me to your Fears—the Hand of Heav'n
Stopt his Endeavours, and restrain'd our Flight.

Clyt.
Oh, how the cruel King deceiv'd my Hopes.

Iph.
He but restores the Gods that Life they gave:
Alas! my Death cannot deserve this Grief.
Your mutual Loves have yet a living Pledge;
Orestes, young Orestes, my dear Brother;
Oh, may he prove (not like his hapless Sister)
The Comfort, the Support of all your Sorrows!
[Shouting within.
Hark! the loud Peoples Voice impatient call
Their Victim forth—Farewel—Farewel for ever!
[Embracing.
Euribates, lead to Diana's Temple.
[Ex. Iphigenia.

Clyt.
I'll follow her; unhand me—Yes, we'll die
Together—Wherefore do these Traitors stop me?
[Guards advance their Javelins at Clytemnestra.
Here, plunge your Jav'lins, strike 'em to my Heart,
And satisfie your burning Thirst of Blood.

Enter Ulysses.
Ulys.
Where would you run?—Where would your pious Rage
Find its Relief?—Return—and calmy hear
What Comfort your Afflictions may admit.

Clyt.
Curse on all Comfort! and on him that brings it.

Ulys.
If you would curse, curse that malignant Serpent
You nurs'd within your Bosom, false Eriphile;
Eriphile, whom you conducted hither,
Reveal'd your Flight to the whole Grecian Army.

Clyt.
Oh, Monster! whom Mægæra, Hell and Night,
Ingender'd to destroy my Peace and Comfort.

Ulys.
Your Grief mistakes its Mercies for its Judgments;
Is not the Glory of the Grecian Arms,
Supported by this pious Offering?

Clyt.

[She sinks into the Arms of her Attendants, and they bear her off.
Ulys.
Support her hence; as she revives, Ægina,
With gentle Words relieve her heavy Grief—
[Exeunt.
Ulysses Alone.
The People are fermented by the Priesthood,
And will be sick 'till they are cur'd with Sacrifice;
The zealous Ideots must be curb'd by Zeal.
Our feeble Maids, like Children in the Dark,
Create the very Mischiefs that we fear.
Suspicion, Melancholly, black Despair
And numerous Ills, which our weak Minds o'erbear,
Are oft the gloomy Fruits of superstitious Fear.

SCENE the Inside of a Temple: At the Upper End an Altar, the holy Fire burning, &c. Iphigenia at the Lower End of the Stage in white, the sacred Fillet round her Head, adorn'd with Flowers, her Hands bound: Agamemnon next his Daughter: Menelaus, Nestor, and Ulysses, on the same side. On the other side, Eriphile, Doris, Arcas, and Euribates, Priests; a Chorus on each side the Altar, and Calchas behind it.
CHORUS.
We Bend, Diana, to thy Shrine,
Spotless Goddess: Power Divine,
All Nature shall with us thy Praises join.

CALCHAS.
You who at the Altar bow,
Waiting for the dreadful Blow,
The fatal Word shall soon be heard.
Diana's Priests, is all prepar'd?

CHORUS.
All's prepar'd.

CALCHAS.
Hence ye Prophane, far hence be gone:
Our sacred Rites are now begun.
Diana's Priests, let this be done.

CHORUS.
All is done.

CALCHAS.
Then let every hallow'd Tongue
Assist us in the solemn Song.

CHORUS.
Behold, Diana, thy Commands we wait;
Thy Power is shown in Iphigenia's Fate.
By her untimely Fate, we learn to know
Nothing but Death is certain here below.

[After the Vocal Musick, a solemn Call by Instrumental Musick to the Altar. Agamemnon leads up Iphigenia, and as he delivers her to Calchas, a sudden Darkness as if the Day were eclips'd; it Thunders and Lightens, and Calchas comes forward, and speaks.
Cal.
Whence, and what mean those inauspicious Omens,
Sinister all, and adverse to our Vows?
The Planet of the Day withdraws his Beams,
And reddens as he sinks; while thro' the Gloom
Pale Meteors dart their subtile Fires: The Gods
In dreadful Thunder speak; the shaking Earth
Is torn with strong Convulsions; Nature trembles.
—Oh, Virgin Goddess of fair Chastity,
Let us again consult thy sacred Oracle.

[Thunder again.
Eri.
Oh Doris, a cold Sweat stands on my Brow
In Beds of Dew; each tortur'd Sinew shakes
With sudden Horror—whence this Agony,
Now when my promis'd Hopes are all in view?
Why do they not perform these bloody Rites?
How slow the Drones proceed—Now Doris, now
Calchas comes forward, now my Rival dies—

Cal.
[Now the Fire on the Altar suddenly breaks into Flame.
[Looking stedfastly on Eriphile.
[Two Priests offer to seize her.

Eri.
Stand off—no nearer, as you love your Safety,
Or I shall die your whiten'd Robes in Crimson.
What? shall the Blood of Hero's be prophan'd
By vulgar Hands?—No! thus I Rob your Altar:
Thus, thus I bleed the Victim of Achilles.
The Son of Thetis strikes the pointed Steel
Thro' that fond Heart, which only liv'd for him.

A noise of Swords without. Enter Achilles, Patroclus, and Officers with Swords drawn.
Achil.
Where are these pious Murtherers, these Priests,
That thirst for Blood, for Blood of Innocents,
And on the Gods impose their barbarous Crimes?
Destroy, Patroclus, cut 'em from the Earth.

Agam.
Restrain your Age—Behold, all gracious Heav'n
Has sav'd our Iphigenia; see, she lives.

[Interposing.
Achil.
Oh my Soul's Joy and Transport! do I hold thee
Once more? And shall I live to call thee mine?
What interposing God redeem'd thy Life?
—What do I see? Eriphile!—and bleeding!

Agam.
The Goddess has reveal'd her Will by Calchas;
Eriphile's the Victim Heav'n demanded.

Eri.
Take, take Libation from the Royal Veins
Of Theseus—Consecrate your nuptial Joys
In Helen's Blood—Hah! my Prophetick Soul
Looks downwards—and behold my rising Vengeance.
I see the cursed House of proud Atrides
Falls by it self—behold, the King of Kings
Bleeds by the Partner of his Bed and Throne.
Now mad Orestes, with his Mother's Blood,
Expiates his Mother's Crime—the Gods pursue him.
Haunt him, ye Furies, seize his guilty Mind,
Let Love, Despair and Love urge him, like me,
To seek Relief from inexpressive Tortures
In an untimely Grave.

[Dies.
Iph.
See, see, my Lord, she dies;
Oh hapless Maid!

Men.
Oh virtuous Iphigenia!
Her Joys are dash'd with Sorrow for her Rival.

Agam.
Oh Prince! oh glorious Youth! this joyful Day,
The Gods have fought the Cause of Love and Virtue;
Receive her then from Agamemnon's Hand,
A just Reward of the most generous Passion.

Achil.
Oh Father! General!—my bounding Heart.
Leaps at the Gift, transported, and inlarg'd;
May this august Alliance never break,
May we pursue the Paths of virtuous Glory,
'Till our great Acts, like Theseus, Hercules,
Or Castor, Lift the Grecian Name to Heav'n.

[Shouts.
Ulys.
Hark! the loud Winds are free, the joyful Sailors
Welcome the springing Breeze, and in glad Shouts
Eccho their Thanks—Away, to Troy, to Troy.

Agam.
Hence let us learn none can be truly happy,
But they who constantly obey the Gods,
Who firm to Virtues Laws, strive to excel
In all her Works, and labour at Perfection.
Oh Virtue, Daughter of Immortal Love!
Bright Image, Representative of Jove;
For thee we pant, to thee with active Fires,
Unclog'd by Flesh, the lab'ring Soul aspires;
There she finds Rest, whatever Lot is given.
A brave Submission raises her to Heaven.