University of Virginia Library

ACT II.

SCENE I.

Enter Eriphile and Doris.
Eri.
Let us begone, and while that happy Maid
Receives her Father's and her Husband's welcome,
While Iphigenia, that triumphant Beauty,
Possesses every Joy her Heart can wish,
Let me retire, thus covetously hoard
My mighty Griefs, and keep alive my Sorrows.

Doris.
Why do you urge your cruel Memory,
Oh why provoke it to renew your Tears?
'Tis true, Captivity imbitters Life;
Yet when the Victor Homicide in Chains
Led you to Argos then you seem'd to bear
Less heavily the weight than now; when Fortune
And lovely Iphigenia smile upon you.

Eri.
Think'st thou 'twill mitigate my Pain, to see
All smiling Joy around, while I am fixt,
Amidst this Happiness, the Mark of Fate?
Nor have the partial Gods permitted me
To know who gave this Being to a Wretch.
And when I ask the dreadful Oracle,
When I wou'd search the Source from whence I sprung,
It tells me, I shall perish when I know it.

Doris.
All Oracles in doubtful Meanings hide,
Or in dark Mysteries obscure the Truth;
Your Name, your Parents are alike conceal'd,
And you must wait 'till Time unravels all.

Eri.
Thy Father, all the Witness I e'er had,
Wou'd never suffer me to ask my Birth.
But when my curious Tongue inquir'd too far,
In Troy, said he, you'll find your Royal Parents;
There you'll retrieve your Family and Name:
But when I hop'd to visit that fam'd City,
Achilles, the fierce Mirmidon, led on
His dreadful Troops, and sack'd our trembling Lesbos.
And thus I only keep the pompous Name,
Of what I ne'er shall prove, a Royal Birth.

Doris.
We both shou'd hate the Hand that gave the Blow,
The pitiless Achilles—Calchas, Madam,
Calchas, who knows the Secrets of the Gods,
Will soon discover all that you can ask,
And Iphigenia's Marriage with the Victor
Will both confirm and strengthen your Protection.

Eri.
Curse on that Marriage! the swift Lightning blast it!
That, that, of all my Woes, sits heavy'st on me.

Doris.
How, Madam!

Eri.
Doris, thou hast shook my Soul;
Attend, and thou shalt hear my countless Griefs,
And be amaz'd I bear 'em all, yet live;
Captivity—my Parents lost—my Country—
Thy Father's Death—sit lightly at my Heart.
—Despair and Love rack my distracted Soul.
Is there a Burthen, Maid, like hopless Love?
Yes this Destroyer of Mankind, Achilles,
This bloody Author of my Woes, with shame
I own is dearer to my Eyes than Light.

Doris.
Tyrannic Love! where will this Passion end?

Eri.
I thought to hide in everlasting Silence
This weakness of my Soul—But oh, my Heart,
Unable to contain the swelling Secret,
Thus breaks a Passage thro' my Eyes and Tongue.
Ask me not how, or where, my Hopes were founded;
Whether the Hero's Tenderness inflam'd
The growing Passion, when he sooth'd my Cares,
And with Concern beheld my Chains and Tears.

Doris.
When was your Heart first sensible of Love,
Tell me, how came the cruel Victor there?

Eri.
Shall I recount the Horrors of that Day,
That dreadful Day, when the fierce Warrior's Sword
Unpeopled Lesbos—Speechless, void of Life
Awhile I lay—But when my trembling Eyes
Return'd to Light—I saw the Victor's Hand
Had rais'd me from the Earth—He bad me cease
To weep—the Fair (said he) are ever sacred.
I sigh'd—and durst not lift my Eyes, to see
His dreadful Face—his bloody Hand grasp'd mine;
He led me to imbark—yet still my Eyes
Cast down avoided the detested sight;
At length I saw him, Doris, I beheld
This dreadful Soldier, then I saw Achilles;
But, oh, his Form had nothing terrible,
I found my Heart, my Tongue, my very Thoughts
At once conspir'd, and took the Conqueror's Side.
Pleas'd; yes, transported with my Chains, I follow'd
My lovely Guide, my glorious dreadful Leader.

Doris.
Then Iphigenia still attempts in vain.

Eri.
Yes, Iphigenia courts in vain my Friendship,
And loads me every Hour with hateful Favours,
She is my Hero's joyful promis'd Bride,
My happy Rival—all her Joys—are Pangs,
Are Daggers here, ev'n now they pierce my Heart.

Doris.
How can your powerless Hate prevent this Marriage?
Had you remain'd within Mycene's Walls,
You might have combated these struggling Passions.
At least, have sav'd a jealous Heart the Pangs
Your happy Rival's sight must hourly give.

Eri.
A secret Impulse carry'd me away,
Hurry'd by Fate I came—In hopes I here
Shou'd heal my Love-sick Mind, and loose my Sorrows:
These hapless Nuptials will conclude my Fate.
If they succeed, Eriphile must die;
The silent Grave will hide my Love and Shame.
—No, Doris, no; they must not, shall not meet,
I'll step between their Hymeneal Joys;
I'll part 'em—If Despair, or Jealousie,
Or hopeless Love, have any Rage or Power.

Doris.
Compose your self—Behold the happy Father,
And the more happy Daughter, both appear.

Enter Agamemnon and Iphigenia.
Iph.
Why will you leave me, Sir? Oh, cou'd you see
How satisfy'd, with what a full Content
My Heart enjoys your Presence, you'd indulge,
Yes, you wou'd give a little to my Fondness:
Lay by awhile the weightier Cares of State,
And deign to waste an Hour with Iphigenia;
But now you sigh, and turn away your Eyes,
While thus with Joy I run to meet your Blessing.
Why are you alter'd thus? Or how have I
Offended, that I lose my Father's Love?

Agam.
My Child—I love thee dearer than my Life.

Iph.
Here let me cherish, and with tender Care
Preserve that Love; 'tis as the circling Blood
That beats in every Vein, my Warmth, my Health.
—But all Mankind are Rivals for your Love;
The Grecians æmulously strive to raise
Your Fame, and place you in their highest Honours,
Their Princes all obey you; every Blessing
Attends your Wish unaskt, and I may now
Call you with pleasing Pride my happy Father.

Agam.
Daughter, you merit a much happier Father.

Iph.
What is there wanting to your distant Wishes?
Your Fame, your Dignity stands high, unequal'd;
The brightest Glories that can grace a Throne
Are yours, the bounteous Gods can grant no more.

Agam.
Which way shall I prepare her—Oh she sinks
My Soul! her Tenderness unmans me; yet I must,
—I cannot speak—

Iph.
Why do you stop your Sighs?
You seem to hide with pain some rising Passion.
Have we without your Orders left Mycene?

Agam.
You never disobey'd me, Iphigenia;
Our Joys have always some alloy of Sorrow,
And Dignities are ever mixt with Cares.

Iph.
You shall not know a Care while I am here;
Blush not to be a Father for a Moment.
What will the Princess say, this Royal Maid,
When she beholds you thus neglect my Love?
Oft have I glory'd in my Happiness,
And promis'd some Relief to fair Eriphile,
From Agamemnon's Goodness and Protection.
How will she take this cold Indifference?
Alas! she sees I have deceiv'd my self
With flattering Hopes—

Agam.
Oh Daughter—Iphigenia!
What shall I say—my labouring Heart will break.

Iph.
Give me your Grief, my Father—let me feel
And share your Sorrow, whatsoe'er it be.

Agam.
Ye partial Powers!—Oh, give me Strength and Virtue.

Iph.
Perish th'adulterous Author of this War.

Agam.
His Death will cost the Conqueror some Blood,

Iph.
The Gods for ever guard your sacred Life.

Agam.
The Gods, my Child, are deaf to all our Prayers,

Iph.
But Calchas now prepares a Sacrifice;
They say that Sacrifice will make us happy.

Agam.
May Heav'n before 'tis offer'd be appeas'd.

Iph.
When will this Sacrifice be made?

Agam.
Too soon.

Iph.
Shall we with mutual Prayers assist the Priest,
And jointly offer up our Vows for Greece?

Agam.
Yes, Daughter, yes—you will assist the Priest;
Yes; you must offer up your—Vows for Greece.

[Breaking from Iph.
Iphigenia, Eriphile, and Doris.
Iph.
What can thus shake his Mind? I feel his Fears,
And tremble ere I know his Sorrows Cause,
Ye never dying Guardians of the Just,
Ministring Angels, save, defend the King
From this impending Ill, whate'er it be.

Eri.
Some Business of the State rolls in his Mind
And breaks his Thoughts; all will be calm again.
If you thus feel imaginary Pains,
How wou'd you bear my Burthen; I, who know
No Parents, no Protector, no Relief?
If Agamemnon shou'd neglect your Piety,
Your Royal Mother wou'd repay that loss
With double Fondness; if they both forsake you,
Your Hero, your Achilles will receive
And cherish with eternal Love your Beauties.

Iph.
Oh fair Eriphile, that Godlike Hero
Will soon relieve our Cares, and ease my Heart;
His mighty Soul is fill'd with Love and Glory,
In Arms he rushes dreadful to the War,
Impetuous, rapid as contending Winds,
Rough as the wintry Storm that plows the Deep.
—In Peace he mildly drops the boisterous Warrior,
Then he's all Love, soft as the balmy Air
That gently bends the Herbage, calmly breathes
The Morning Sweets—

Eri.
You are all Rapture, Madam.

Iph.
All Tongues are eloquent, all Eyes are pleas'd,
And every Heart is warm'd with Joy to see him,
The general Wonder, and the general Love;
Yes, he is all that Woman's Wish can fancy,
To satisfie her Pride, or please her Eyes.

Eri.
With what transporting Joy her busie Tongue
Dwells on his Praise! 'tis worse than Death, than Shame;
Her Words are Tongues of Adders, Tails of Scorpions.

[Aside.
Iph.
His Fame, his Love, my Parents, and my Duty,
Gave him the full Possession of my Heart:
And now, my Friend, our Lives, like joining Streams,
Unruffled by Adversity or Strife,
Shall flow into Eternity together.

Eri.
No, no: I'll raise a Storm shall rack your Peace.
Oh Rage! oh Jealousie!—yet hold my Heart,
My tortur'd Heart!—Curse on their happy Loves.

[Aside.
Iph.
You seem disturb'd, Eriphile; the Blood
Glows in your Face—What has disorder'd you?

Eri.
A sudden Pain shot like a Dagger thro' me,
I thought I shou'd have fainted—Pray go on;
You say this Lover, this Achilles—

Iph.
Yes;
Is he not more than half Divine, Eriphile?
—And yet I wonder he so long is absent.
He must have heard of our Arrival here:
My jealous Heart fears ev'ry thing, ev'n you,
My Father, and Achilles—All avoid,
Or coldly meet my Love.

Doris.
Madam, your Mother,
The Queen appears, the Royal Clytemnestra.

Enter Clytemnestra with a Letter.
Clyt.
Daughter, we must again revisit Argos,
Haste, let us fly and save us from Dishonour.
I now no longer wonder, Agamemnon
Gave us so cold a Welcome to the Camp.
[Gives Iph. the Letter.
Behold this Letter, which was sent by Arcas,
Sent to prevent our Journey; but the Message
Miscarry'd, while our Chariot stray'd last Night
In Aulis Woods.

Iph.
Alas! What do I see?
He writes us here, the mighty Son of Peleus,
[Reads.
Achilles cools, and wou'd defer the Rites
Of Marriage, till he comes from Troy victorious?

Eri.
What do I hear? Oh my exulting Heart!

[Aside.
Iph.
And that this Change, this unexpected Coldness
[Reads.
Proceeds from young Eriphile, his Captive.
[Looking stedfastly on Eriph.
—Oh faithless and unkind!

Eri.
What can this mean?
Am I alive, or is it all a Dream?
A pleasing Vision? No; I wake, I live:
And yet the Hero never yet discover'd,
To me his Love—how my Transported Soul
Feels the surprizing News!

Clyt.
[To Eriphile.
[Ex. Clyt.

Iphigenia and Eriphile.
Iph.
Yes, Iphigenia, guard thy Fame, thy Honour;
Tho' thy Heart bleeds, let him not know thy Weakness;
The Tales of faithful Love are Fictions all;
Our Fancies work, a fairy Land, a Bubble,
That with its borrow'd Lights pleases a Moment,
And then expands to empty Air again.
Eriphile, you're grown a happy Captive:
It seems you hold your Conqueror in Chains.

Eri.
Madam, this strange Discourse surprises me.

Iph.
'Tis I shou'd be surpris'd—but since you know not,
I'll tell you—You were once my faithful Friend;
Eriphile, Fate robs me of a Husband;
Will you abandon me, and must I lose
A Friend?—No, no; you will be ever faithful;
You wou'd not leave me, when I came to Aulis,
My Company was your Delight, your Life:
I know you will attend me back again.

Eri.
I should consult the Priest, before I go.

Iph.
Consult him then—and let us go this Moment.

Eri.
Perhaps my Business here requires some stay.

Iph.
I will no further press you to be gone;
I know your pleasing Business, here in Aulis.
Oh, cou'd I ever think Eriphile!
Oh, cou'd I ever think Achilles false!

Eri.
Can you believe I love that furious Man,
Who never met my Eyes, but bath'd in Blood?
Lesbos in Ashes, Fire, and Flame, and Death,
All the dread Storms of War, fore-ran his March.
Then when I saw him first, I saw him fierce,
Unlovely, terrible, and full of Horrour:
Cou'd he then make Impressions on my Heart?

Iph.
Eriphile, you love this dreadful Man;
You know not with what Joy I see you Paint
The Hero bath'd in Blood—this burning Lesbos,
This dreadful Storm of War, this Fire, this Fury,
And all the raging Horrors of that Day
Which your fond Tongue with feign'd Concerns repeats,
Point out the Traces of a settled Passion
Imprinted on your Soul:—Your Memory,
Pleas'd with his Deeds, preserves the fatal Tale.
How have I sigh'd to hear your fond Complaints,
And aided all your Counterfeited Grief!
You love him.—Yes; the bloody Warrior still
Dwells in your Mind—Perdious! and Unworthy!
I see th'ill natur'd Pleasure in your Eyes;
Your haughty Looks insult my injur'd Love.

Eri.

Iph.
Do—Glory in thy Crime, be fond of Guilt;
False to thy Friend, and Trust—be greatly false,
And loudly boast thy Shame!—the Son of Thetis,
And false Eriphile, have Hearts alike.

Eri.
If there's a Joy on Earth, beyond the Rapture
Of two united Hearts, 'tis to behold
A slighted Rival's Pangs.—Yes, my Achilles
Is all; he shall, he will be ever mine;
I rule with absolute Command his Heart.

Iph.
Yet oh! remember, insolent, proud Woman,
This perjur'd Man will be forsworn again;
Remember, I shall see your Hero's Vows
Paid to another Shrine,—For be assur'd,
The Man, who once was false, can ne'er be true.
Perhaps this Wanderer may return to me:
You may, with jealous Rage, behold these Charms
Victorious, as my Honour; while with Pride,
With virtuous Pride, I see you both despair.
For your weak Mind, dispirited with Vice,
Knows not the Fortitude to Suffer Ills.

Eri.
Accuse your feeble Charms, which wanted Strength
To Fix a Heart, they only faintly warm'd.
My pointed Eyes, with animated Fires,
And Force unerring, Conquer'd all the Hero.
When I appear'd, your languid Beauties dy'd:
My Absence only gave 'em Light and Being.
“So when from Western Hills the burning Sun
“Descends, and leaves his Empire to the Moon,
“False Meteors glare, and scatter'd Drops of Light,
“With glow-worm Spangles, dress the gloom of Night:
“But as the Radiant God remounts his Carr,
“The borrow'd Vapours swiftly disappear;
“They fly the Force of his celestial Ray,
“Or their pale Lights are lost in Floods of Day.

Iph.

Achilles Enters.
Eri.
He comes—He comes—the fluttering Guest within
Fears, least her Jealousies should all prove false.
—My doubting Heart is on the Rack: My Life,
My Death depends on this important Moment!

Achil.
Fair Iphigenia, welcome to the Camp.
I am surpriz'd with equal Joy and Wonder,
To find you, thus unlook'd for, here in Aulis.

Iph.
Be not surpriz'd, my Lord; I'll soon be gone,
[Going.
And make your Wonder sink below your Joy.

Achil.
Illustrious Maid, say how have I offended?
[Holding her.
You shall not go—Give me to know the Cause
Why thy bright Eyes shoot those disdainful Fires,
Why all thy Beauties redden thus with Anger;
What unknown Crime have I committed?—Speak.

Iph.
How hard 'tis to dissemble well, Achilles!
I can't so readily relate the Story,
Your Lesbian Captive will inform you all.
[Exit Iph.

Eriphile, Achilles, Doris.
Achil.
She flyes me! Doe I wake? or is this all
Illusion only, and the Sport of Fancy?
Alas! I feel it here, I cannot bear it.
How have I merited, oh Charming Maid,
How has my faithful Heart deserv'd thy Scorn?

Eri.
Oh Heav'n! He loves her still!—Behold! He sinks,
Unable to support her dreadful Anger.
Ah short-liv'd Joy! Once more I am undone.

[Aside.
Achil.
Madam, if yet you can behold Achilles,
Without remembring he was once your Foe,
Permit me to petition you, to know
Why Iphigenia meets my Eyes with Scorn.
Oh fair Eriphile, if e'er you lov'd,
If e'er your tender Hear was sensible
Of that soft Passion, think what I endure.
Pity, assist me, tell me what's the Cause;
For you, I'm sure, must know her inmost Secrets,
Th'accursed Cause why Iphigenia frowns

Eri.
Yes, Sir, my Soul is sensible of Love,
And I can pity Lovers fond Distresses.
—But you and Iphigenia both are happy.

Achil.
How, happy! Did you not regard her Eyes,
With what Disdain they shot their beamy Fires?
Wou'd she endure my Sight, or hear me speak?

Eri.
I see your Soul is rapt in Iphigenia.

Achil.
Eriphile, she rivals my Ambition,
Dear to my Soul as the Desire of Fame;
Oh she's divinely Fair, divinely Good,
More beautiful than the bright Cyprian Goddess,
Chast as the Virgin Huntress of the Woods.

Eri.
Thrice happy Maid, thrice happy Iphigenia,
Cou'd she repay with mutual Love this Passion.
But know, young Son of Thetis, Virgins Hearts
Receive with Warmth and Force their first Impressions.
Suppose her Heart engag'd.—What if her Duty
At first oblig'd her to admit your Vows,
While for some happier Youth she still reserv'd
The secret Wishes of her Maiden Love;
And now she sees these hated Nuptials near
She starts, she trembles, and beholds with Horror
Th'Approaching Hour—Perhaps, these are the Reasons
Why she receives you thus—Observe her Eyes,
Her Sighs, her Tears; they openly declare,
She thinks you the dire Cause of all her Woe.

Achil.
Hah! thou hast rous'd my sleeping Jealousy.
Were all her Vows the cold Effects of Duty?
No, no; I'll not believe it, Her chast Mind
Is pure and guileless—thy Suspicion's base.
—Yet something stirs the Camp—the Grecian Prince
Behold Achilles all with hostile Eyes:
Ev'n now proud Menelaus and Ulysses
Both arm'd their Eloquence to cross my Love.
They told me that my Honour too must suffer,
If I shou'd press this Marriage with the Princess.
What dreadful Enterprize have they in View?
Why do they thus obscurely half reveal,
What both concerns my Honor and my Mistress?
I'll know this Secret; instantly I'll know it:
I'll force it from 'em. My distracted Soul
Burns in suspense between my Love and Glory.
[Exit Achilles.

Eriphile, Doris.
Eri.