 | Achilles : Or, Iphigenia in Aulis |  |
ACT II.
Enter Eriphile, weeping, Doris.Eriph.
Doris , Let us retire: And whilst within
They feel the Raptures of their mutual Love,
Both in a Father, and a Husband's Arms,
Here let me vent my unrelenting Grief.
Dor.
Why, Madam, will you thus provoke your Sorrows?
And waste those Beauties with incessant Tears?
'Tis true, nothing seems Charming to a Prisoner,
Captivity turns all to Bitterness;
Yet, shall I tell it? When we crost the Seas
With proud Achilles, when yet a trembling Captive,
You view'd your Conquerour, me thought your Eyes
Were less employ'd about your Miseries.
Now Fortune seems to smile, since Iphigenia
Like a fond Sister sooths your Cares with Friendship,
And gives those Comforts you had found in Troy.
You long'd to come to Aulis, and your Wishes
Are all accomplish'd, yet your Grief redoubles.
Eriph.
What! Dost thou think that sad Eriphile,
Can be a calm Spectator of their Joys?
Canst thou believe my Griefs will disappear,
When I behold a Heaven I cannot reach?
Blest Iphigenia hugs the dearest Father,
She is the Pride of a fond haughty Mother,
Whist from my Infancy expos'd to Dangers,
My unknown Parents never Smil'd on me.
I am a Stranger to my very self;
And to compleat my Woes, the Oracle
Bid me continue in my Ignorance;
For when I ask to whom I owe my Birth,
'Tis answer'd, in this Knowledge lies my Loss.
11
But why should this deter you from your Search?
All Oracles lie hid in dubious Riddles,
Who knows but by the losing a false Name
You'll find your own: This, sure, must be the Loss
The Oracle foretells, for in your Cradle,
Your Name was chang'd—
Eriph.
Of all the Circumstances of my Fate,
This is the only one I e'er could learn,
From thy unhappy Father, who knew all.
Indeed he us'd to tell me, that in Troy,
I should retrieve my Glory, my true Name,
And find my Royal Parentage—But oh!
I had within my view the wish'd-for City,
When fierce Achilles led his Conquering Host,
'Gainst Lesbos, and made all yield to his Sword;
Thy Father buried in a heap of Dead,
Left me a Captive to my self unknown:
And of all those great Honours I expected,
Vile Prisoner of Greece, I only keep
The Pride of a High Birth I cannot prove.
Dor.
How great's the Loss of such a Faithful Witness!
How much you ought to hate the Barbarous Hand
That gave the fatal Blow! Yet renown'd Calchas,
Who holds a Correspondence with the Gods,
And know's what's past, what's present, what's to come,
Calchas may, sure, acquaint you with your Fate.
Besides, this Camp affords you safe Protection:
Kind Iphigenia will soon be joyn'd,
In happy Marriage to our Conquerour,
And make our Chains the lighter; doubt it not,
She has engag'd her Promise—
Eriph.
What! If of all my Woes
This fatal Marriage were the cruellest?
Dor.
How! Madam?
Eriph.
Be not surpriz'd my Griefs admit no Cure,
But rather wonder I have liv'd so long,
With such a load of Cares and Misery.
I am unknown, a Stranger, and a Captive:
All these were little—But, oh! I'm a Lover.
That fierce Destroyer of the Lesbian State;
That fatal Author of our dire Misfortunes,
Who with Hands drench'd in Blood made me his Captive,
And with thy Father robb'd me of my Birth,
Achilles is the dearest Man I view.
Dor.
Heaven! What do I hear?
12
I first design'd
Eternal Silence should conceal my Weakness:
But I must speak to ease my Soul opprest,
And in thy friendly Bosom vent a Secret,
Which ought for ever, ever be forgotten.
Yet, Doris, ask me not with what fond Hopes,
I entertain'd this Passion in my Breast?
I will not charge it on that kind Concern,
With which Achilles seem'd to sooth my Woes.
No, no; 'tis unrelenting Heaven's Decree,
Still to pursue me with immortal Hatred,
And crush my tender Heart with Cares of Love.
Dor.
Oh! cruel hopeless Love!
Eriph.
Shall I call back to my distracted Mind,
The sad Remembrance of that dismal Day,
When first we lost our Liberty?
Speechless and Trembling for a while I lay,
Buried in gloomy Night; at last my feeble Eyes,
Began to seek the Light, and as I saw
The pressing Hand of my fierce Conquerour
Reeking with Blood, I fear'd to meet his Looks.
As I embark't with him, I still endeavour'd,
To shun the dreadful and detested Sight;
But, oh! I saw him; saw him with a Blush;
Nay, which is more, I saw him with concern.
His Aspect was Serene, and my Reproaches
Could find no Tongue to Curse the pleasing Foe;
My Heart rebell'd against my Miseries,
And all my Anger melted into Tears.
I follow'd with Delight my Charming Guide,
And as I lov'd him then, I love him still.
Kind Iphigenia offers me Protection,
But all in vain, since my tormenting Furies
Bid me lay hold of my Protectress's Hand,
Only to crush a Rival, and unseen
Disturb those Joys which cause my Sufferings.
Dor.
Alas! What can your feeble Hate perform?
Had it not been much better t'have remain'd
Still Prisoner at Mycene; there to quench
Your fatal Fires, and shun the cruel Woes
Of unregarded Love—
Eriph.
'Twas my Design; but tho' my Rivals Triumph
Threatned my new-born Love with endless Torments,
Yet driv'n by Fate, I came: A secret Voice,
Bid me attend my Guardian—
13
All my Misfortunes, and like a Libation,
Pour them upon the Heads of these blest Lovers.
This is the Reason I appear in Aulis,
And not a fond Desire to know my Birth.
Or rather I am come to let their Nuptials
Pronounce my final Doom; for if accomplish'd,
A speedy Death will end my Miseries;
And without wasting time in fruitless Search,
After my unknown Parentage, the Grave
Will hide my Love and Shame—
Dor.
How much I do lament your cruel Fate!
Enter to them Agamemnon, Iphigenia.
Iphig.
My Lord, What makes you thus Fly from my Sight;
And shun the Clasping of a Daughter's Arms?
My dutiful Respect made me forbear,
Till the transported Queen had first exprest
Her joys in your Embrace, Must Iphigenia,
Retire without a Blessing, and a Kiss?
May'nt I?—
Agam.
Yes—you may embrace a Father,
[Embraces her.
Who loves you still—
Iphig.
How dear I value such a Father's Love!
What pleasing Raptures do I feel, to see
Th'Excess of Power and Honour that surrounds you?
Fame's busie Tongue had entertain'd my Ears,
With wond'rous Tales of your supreme Command;
But all comes short of what I now behold;
My Joys and my Surprize at once redouble:
You have the general Love of all the Grecians,
And am I then belov'd by such a Father?
Agam.
Alas! A Father to so good a Daughter,
Deserv'd to be more Fortunate—
Iphig.
Is there a greater Fortune can attend a King?
I thought you reach'd the Top of humane Bliss,
And that the Bounteous Gods could give no more.
Agam.
Just Heaven! Must I prepare her to her Fate?
[Aside.
Iphig.
You Sigh my Lord, and seem to cast your Looks,
Unwillingly upon me; Pray, dear Sir,
Is it against your Orders we are come?
Agam.
Daughter, I see you with a Father's Eye;
But at this Time and Place, perplexing Care
Disturb my Joys—
14
How sad are the effects of tedious Absence!
Alas! can't you forget your high Degree,
And learn to be a Father for a moment?
Here is no Witness that can make you Blush;
You see before you, none but a young Princess,
To whom I often told how blest I was
With the most Tender and Indulgent Father,
Who would at my Request end her Misfortunes.
What will she think of your Indifference?
Must all her Hopes be vain? Pray, gentle Father,
Dispel those Clouds that hover on your Brow.
Agam.
Alas! My Daughter—
Iphig.
My Lord, Go on.
Agam.
Oh! I cannot—
Iphig.
Curst be th'adulterous Trojan,
The fatal Author of our dire Alarms!
Agam.
His Ruin must be bought with Flouds of Tears.
Iphig.
I hope propitious Heaven will Protect your Head.
Agam.
The Gods of late seem deaf to all my Prayers.
Iphig.
Calchas, they say, prepares a Sacrifice.
Agam.
May Heaven be appeas'd before 'tis Offer'd!
Iphig.
Pray, when is that to be?
Agam.
Too soon, Alas!
Iphig.
Shall I be suffer'd
To joyn my Vows with yours before the Altar?
Agam.
Oh! me!
Iphig.
My Lord; you're silent—
Agam.
No—Yes—You will be there, My Daughter—
Farewell—
[Exit Agamemnon.
Iphig.
His cold Reception fills my Mind with Doubts.
A secret Horror seizes all my Limbs:
I fear—But know not what, May Heaven avert
Th'impending Woes—Yet, whom they seem to threaten.
The Gods alone can tell—
Eriph.
Madam, I wonder that amidst those Cares,
Which now employ your Father, a small Coldness
Can discompose your Mind? Alas! How anxious
My Thoughts must be?
Where'er I set my Steps I am a Stranger;
Lost and abandon'd from my very Cradle,
My unknown Parents never cast upon me
A flattering Smile; You, if a cross Father
Reject your dutious Love, may yet complain
To a fond Mother; nay, if both should prove,
Unkind, a Lover will dry up your Tears.
15
Yes, dear Eriphile, I own my Tears
Will soon be dry'd at my Achilles's view:
His worth, my Father, my Heart bid me Love him.
Yet, What must I believe of this fond Lover?
Who seem'd to burn with longing expectation
To meet me here? What keeps him from my Sight?
I have, for these two Days, upon our Journey,
Sought him with trembling Looks; but all in vain.
At last I'm welcom'd by an unknown Crowd,
And still he keeps away: Sad Agamemnon
Seems shy to name him to me. Where is he?
I'm full of Doubts and Fears—, What! Have the Cares of War,
Chill'd both a Father and a Lover's Heart?
But, no—, I wrong him by unjust Alarms:
For he alone did ne're engage his Promise
To Hellen's Father: 'Tis on my Account
He flies to Troy; I am the only Prize
His generous Love expects to Crown his Valour.
Enter Clytemnestra, with a Letter in her Hand.
Clyt.
Daughter, we must be gone, and by a speedy Flight
Prevent our Shame; 'tis now no more a Riddle,
What made your Father troubled and uneasy
To see us here: This Letter clears all Doubts;
By faithful Arcas he had sent it to me,
To spare us the Affront of a Denial.
But wandring from our Way, that Messenger
Could not convey it sooner—
He writes, Achilles having chang'd his Mind,
Defers the Nuptial Rites till his Return.
Eriphil.
What do I hear!
Clyt.
You blush, and seem concern'd at the Abuse—;
But let your Spirit arm you with Disdain.
[To Iphigenia
Ungrateful Wretch! Deceiv'd by his Renown,
I did at Argos countenance his Love,
And thought a Goddess's Son would make you Happy.
But since his vile Inconstancy belies
His noble Offspring from th'unchanging Gods,
Let's now despise the basest of Mankind,
And fly this hated Shore; lest he should think,
We stay to court his dull Indifference.
Your Father is acquainted with my Purpose,
I only wait him here to take my leave.
In the mean time I'll see all Things prepar'd
16
[To Eriphile.
You'd think it hard to follow; our Retreat
Leaves you in better Hands; too well we know,
That 'tis not Chalchas that you came to see.
[Exit, Clytemnestra, in a Fury.
Iphig.
In what amaze of Trouble has she left me,
By her perplexing Speech! Achilles having
Chang'd his Mind,
Defers the Nuptial Rites till he Returns;
I must prevent my Shame by hasty Flight;
And 'tis not Calchas, that you came to see.
[To Eriphile.
Eriph.
The meaning of her Speech is a dark Riddle,
I cannot apprehend—.
Iphig.
Nay, Madam, too, too well,
You know its meaning—, yet, if barbarous Fate
[In an Ironical Tone.
Robs me of a Husband, sure, you'll be more kind
Than to abandon me in my Misfortunes.
'Thad been a Torment for you to have staid
At Mycene without me—, Shall the Queen
Now leave you here alone?
Eriph.
Madam, I design'd
To consult Calchas—.
Iphig.
Then what's the Reason you don't haste to see him?
Erip.
You speak of being gone within a Moment.
Iphig.
Sometimes one Moment may clear many Doubts:
But, Madam, I'm too pressing: And now plainly see
What I could ne're have thought—Yes, 'tis Achilles
Who makes you so uneasie till w'are gone.
Eriph.
Can you suspect me of such Treachery?
I! Madam, Love a furious Conqueror,
Whose bloody Image haunts my fearful Mind,
E're since with Fire and Sword he spread Destruction,
Through all the Lesbian State?—
Iphig.
Yes, Traytress, Yes, you love the fierce Destroyer:
And all those Horrors with which you describe him,
His Hands embru'd with Blood, his reeking Sword,
And flaming Lesbos are the Characters,
Which left his pleasing Image printed in your Soul.
This, I remember, this made you so fond,
Still to repeat to me the doleful Story
Of your Captivity—I might have seen
Your eager Passion through your feign'd Complaints.
But my fond Friendship banish'd all Distrust,
I hug'd and cherish'd a perfidious Rival;
Credulous Fool! I lov'd her: Nay, I offer'd
17
The Robbing me of him, I could forgive,
But to be brought to this detested Shore,
To meet th'ungrateful Man who now forsakes me,
And grace the Triumph of a treacherous Friend,
This, this is an Abuse I cannot bear.
Eriph.
Madam, you give me Words I ne're was us'd
To hear before—; And tho' hard Fate pursues me
With cruel Hate, yet such harsh sounds till now,
Were Strangers to my Ears; But I excuse
Th'unjust Reproaches of an incens'd Lover.
Which way could I prevent your Journey hither?
Can you suspect Achilles will prefer
A forlorn Maid to Agamemnon's Daughter?
One, who all she can learn of her Condition,
Is, that she is the Offspring of that Blood
He longs to spill—.
Iphig.
The barbarous Wretch insults o're my Misfortunes!
And still compares her vileness to my Glory,
Only to heighten her perfidious Triumph.
Was this then wanting to my load of Woe?
But have a care your Raptures be'nt too rash:
That Agamemnon you have dar'd, commands
All Greece; He is my Father; nay, he loves me,
And feels my Sufferings deeply as my self.
My Tears did melt him: I perceiv'd those Sighs
He strove to hide from me; Fond Fool! I blam'd
That Coldness which his Tenderness had caus'd.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Is't possible then, Madam! Do I see you?
Or is it fond Delusion? No: For the whole Camp,
Assur'd me you was here—, But, Madam, What concern
Has brought you to this Shore, since Agamemnon,
Gave out Mycene would enjoy you still?
Iphig.
My Lord, fear not my hated Presence here,
For Iphigenia will soon be gone.
[Exit Iphigenia with a disdainful Air.
Achil.
She shuns me! Do I wake? Or is't a Dream?
Gods! How I am distracted at this Flight!
What shall I do?—Madam, can I presume
[To Eriphile.
To meet your Looks, and not provoke your Hatred?
Yet, if Achilles did e're pity you:
If you can now receive your Conquerours Prayer,
Inform me why they're come—, sure, you can tell.
Eriph.
My Lord, I wonder
You should be unacquainted with their Journey;
18
Still pressing their Arrival, and your Nuptials.
Achill.
I Madam? I was Absent this whole Month,
And only came last Night—.
Eripil.
How, When Agamemnon did write to Mycene,
Did not your Love Indite and Guide his Hand?
I thought you was transported with the Charms
Of his bright Daughter—.
Achil.
Yes: I still adore her.
Nay, if I had consulted but my Love,
I would have fled to see her at Mycene.
Yet, I am shunn'd; but for what Crime I know not.
Where'er I cast my Looks I meet a Foe:
And e'en this Moment Calchas and Ulysses
Display'd their Eloquence t'oppose my Love,
And seem'd to intimate it shock'd my Honour.
What can their Counsels mean? Am I abus'd?
And made a Tale to entertain the Army?
I'll in—, And wrench the Secret from their Souls.
[Exit. Achilles
Eriph.
Ye Gods! Who see my Shame, Where shall I hide it?
Proud Rival, thou art lov'd, and yet thou murmur'st.
Must I at once behold thy haughty Triumph,
And bear with thy Insults? No—, Let me rather—:
But, Doris, I'm deceiv'd, or some great Storm,
Is gathering thick to break upon their Heads.
I've Eyes:—Their Happiness is not yet setl'd.
King Agamemnon Sighs, and is in Trouble:
He shuns his Daughter: Both avoid Achilles.
There's something in it; I'll not yet Despair:
And if Fate listens to my Hatred's Call,
I'll die, but crush a Rival with my Fall.
[Exeunt Eriphile, Doris
The end of the Second Act.
| Achilles : Or, Iphigenia in Aulis | |