University of Virginia Library

[[SCENE IV.]]

SCENE changes to an open Wood.
Enter Thoas, and his Party; with Pylades and Iphigenia Prisoners.
Thoas.
The Heav'n's are just:—Look not in vain for Rescue,
Thou fugitive Traitress!—Could not thy Defender,
That boist'rous Youth, protect thee from our Force,
And hop'st thou yet, fond Girl, to 'scape my Hands?

Iphig.
I have no Hope: Death is the utmost Bound
Of all my Wishes:—Use a Conqu'ror's Right;
Indulge thy Tyrant Rage, and kill me here.

Thoas.
Be sure, thou hast not long to wish for Death,
In Retribution to my injur'd Throne.
Survey the fatal Havock of thy Treasons,
My Subjects slain, our hallow'd Altar rob'd;
Then ask thy conscious Soul what Dues of Vengeance
Thy double Crime demands.

Pylad.
Th'imputed Crime
In her was justified by Nature's Laws,
By righteous Nature; and her Treason, Virtue.
If Thou art wrong'd, shew Justice in thy Vengeance;
'Twas I provok'd those Wrongs. On Me thy Subjects
May wreak their Hate, and satisfy Resentment.
But if Thou think to touch her sacred Life,
The Pow'rs, that make such Innocence their Care,
Shall show'r their fiercest Indignation down;
And dearly punish the unhallow'd Daring.

Thoas.
Lies the Debate of Right and Wrong with Thee,
Proud Youth, who art the Captive of our Arms?
Dar'st thou in Bonds prescribe my Terms of Justice,
And deem with Threats to give thy Conqu'ror Law?
That boasted Innocence the Pow'rs should guard,
Is, as thou see'st, giv'n up by their Displeasure:
And the Decision of her Fate and thine
Now rests in me, and waits as I determine.

Pylad.
Tyrant,—

Iphig.
O Prince, provoke not farther Rage:
We must submit: and if the wrathful Gods
Have doom'd it so, Death cannot give me Fear.

Pylad.
Think not, bright Maid, Darkness and poor Surprize
Shall cast the Issue of thy better Fate:
[Trumpets at a Distance.
Hark, Tyrant, hark:—Our Grecian Trumpet sounds
A nearer Blast, and breathes the sprightly Charge.
Our scatter'd Greeks are rallied in the Field,
My noble Friend is lab'ring for our Rescue,
And Destiny obeys his prosp'rous Sword.
They come.

Thoas.
Retire our Pris'ners: guard them well.
Look out, and see what new Alarm is this.

Enter Orestes and his Party.
Orest.
Tyrant, give back my Friends:—My gallant Foll'wers,
There lies our Chase: Renown and Jove befriend us!

[Orestes sets on Thoas, and drives him off. A Wheeling Fight seen thro' the Wood, in which Pylades and Iphigenia are rescued. After the Fight,