University of Virginia Library

ARKAS & THOAS.
ARKAS.
I feel embarrass'd, and I do not know
whom to suspect, or what; but plots are thought of.
Whether the prisoners meditate escape—
Whether the priestess lends them her assistance—
'Tis strongly rumour'd that the ship, which brought
these strangers hither, lurks in some concealment.
The madness of the elder, these new rites,
a mere pretence to gain an hour's delay,
are grounds for strong suspicion and for caution.

THOAS.
Send for the priestess swiftly, and examine
the'indented coast from yonder promontory
down to the holy grove. Its sacred precincts
beware to violate; but lie in ambush,
and seize on every stranger who approaches.
[Arkas goes.
My anger knows not where to vent itself—
if on the priestess, whom I thought so good,
or on myself, who trusted her so rashly,
and by my mildness form'd into a traitress.
To slavery a man soon grows accustom'd,
and learns obedience with ease, if quite
depriv'd of freedom. Yes! if she had fallen
into the rude hands of my ancestors,
and they had spar'd her life—she had been grateful,
for her mere preservation, would have shed
the blood of strangers on the ancient altar,
and thought the task, her duty. 'Tis my kindness
that raises this audacious spirit in her.
In vain I hop'd for her attachment. She
is only bent on independent fate.
At first she won my heart by flattery:
now I am arm'd against it, she is seeking
her ends by fraud and cunning, and has learnt
to think my oversight an ancient right.

IPHIGENIA & THOAS.
IPHIGENIA.
Me thou wast asking for. What brings thee hither?

THOAS.
Why is the sacrifice deferr'd? Inform me.

IPHIGENIA.
I told the reasons much at large to Arkas.

THOAS.
And I would hear them from thyself again.

IPHIGENIA.
The goddess gives thee time for recollection.

THOAS.
The time seems also useful to thyself.

IPHIGENIA.
If thou be predetermin'd to accomplish
thy cruel resolution—wherefore come?
A king, who wills a cruel deed, can find
hirelings enow disposed, for gain or honours,
to share the curse of perpetrated guilt,
leaving his presence pure and undefil'd.
Hid by the louring cloud he plans destruction;
but meaner messengers bear flaming death
on those poor wretches, whom his anger dooms:
while he serenely sails above the storm
in purer ether, an impassive god.

THOAS.
Wild accents quiver on the holy lip.

IPHIGENIA.
Priestess no longer—Agamemnon's daughter—
to whom, while yet unknown, thy ears have hearken'd—
a princess—stands before thee. Would thy voice
employ her hand in murder? No: rash king.
I have, from early youth, been taught obedience
first to my parents, then to a divinity,
and willingly my soul fulfill'd the task;
but to the harsh and savage voice of man
I learn'd compliance neither there nor here.

THOAS.
Not I, but ancient laws command thy conduct.

IPHIGENIA.
How gladly we catch hold of ancient laws,
that can be made the weapons of our passion.
I listen to an older law than thine,
which bids me to withstand thee, which declares
the stranger sacred.

THOAS.
Sure these prisoners
lie near thy heart; for sympathy with them
makes thee forget the common saw of prudence,
the mighty should not be provok'd to anger .

IPHIGENIA.
Whether I speak or not, thou mayst discern
what is and ever will be in my heart.
And ought not similarity of fate
to call forth pity in the sufferer's breast?
How canst thou blame me then? Their woes were mine,
I knelt, wept, trembled once before the altar,
and early death with solemn terror seem'd
to gird me round—the glittering knife was rais'd
against my living bosom, and my soul
recoil'd within me—clouds o'erspread my sight—
I swoon'd—and a superior arm had sav'd me.
The gracious presents that we owe the gods
sure we are bound to pay to the unhappy.
Thou knowst it—knowest me—and wouldst compel me?

THOAS.
Thy office, not thy king, requires it of thee.

IPHIGENIA.
It is the meanness sure of power to'aspire
to make advantage of a woman's weakness.
Am I not born as free as any man?
If Agamemnon's son stood here before thee,
and thou didst ask an unbecoming thing,
he has a sword and arm, that would defend
the innate freedom of his bosom. I
have only words—but noble-minded men
regard the words of woman.

THOAS.
So do I,
more than thy brother's sword.

IPHIGENIA.
The chance of arms
is changeful, and the prudent combatant
will ne'er despise a foe; for bounteous Nature
deny'd not even to the weak some help
against the harsh and overbearing man.
She taught him cunning, and deferr'd contrivance,
which overtake and overcome at last.
The violent deserve such weapons, Prince.

THOAS.
Prudence and caution mostly baffle fraud.

IPHIGENIA.
But a pure soul disdains them all alike.

THOAS.
Beware of speaking thine own condemnation.

IPHIGENIA.
O couldst thou see the combat of my soul
to get the better of oppressive fate!
Lo! I am weaponless and suppliant;
but prayer—the branch, that in a woman's hand
is mightier than the sword—I wave in vain.
What more remains to my defenceless spirit—
must I petition miracles of heaven—
or have I yet resources in myself?

THOAS.
Methinks thou art most singularly anxious
for these two strangers. Tell me who are they,
for whom thy soul is moved so violently.

IPHIGENIA.
They are—they seem—I doubt not they be Greeks.

THOAS.
Who have reviv'd thy wishes of return—

IPHIGENIA,
after pausing.
Has man alone the privilege of daring?
May only his heroic breast aspire
to clasp the'impossible? What pass for great—
what actions heave the breast of the relater
with still repeated throbs—but those begun
by boldness with improbable success?
Shall he, who steals by night among the foes,
to wrap their tents in unexpected flame,
or make their horses bearers of his booty,
alone be priz'd? Shall only he, who scorns
securer paths to roam amid the desert,
and bind the robber in his lurking-place,
be crown'd with honor? Must a tender woman
forgo the innate softness of her sex,
be wild among barbarians, wield a sword,
like a fierce Amazon, by blows and wounds
to ward oppression off?—My rising soul
feels prompted to a nobler enterprize.
Reproach and heavier evils press upon me
if I succeed not.—At your feet I lay them—
Are ye, as ye are call'd, the gods of truth,
by your protection show it. Honour truth
in me.—Great king, deceitful plots are ripening;
it is in vain to ask the prisoners
they're wander'd hence in search of their companions,
who, with their vessel, lurk along the shore.
The elder, seiz'd by horrid madness here,
but who is now recover'd, is Orestes,
my brother; with him was his worthy friend,
his confidential long-lov'd Pylades.
From Delphos to this coast Apollo sent them,
bad them bear off the image of Diana,
and bring the sister thither; and for this
he promis'd him deliverance from the Furies
that haunt him since the hour his mother fell.—
Now I have given us both into thy hands,
the only remnants of the race of Tantalus,—
destroy us—if thou can.

THOAS.
And dost thou think
that the rude Scythian the barbarian hears
the voice of truth and of humanity
which the Greek, Atreus, heard not?

IPHIGENIA.
It is heard
by all, beneath whatever climate born,
thro' whose warm bosoms flows the stream of life
pure and uncheckt.—What art thou thinking of?—
What art thou brooding in thy silent soul?
O, if it be destruction, kill me first!
For now, that their escape is render'd hopeless,
in all its terrors I behold the danger
to which I have expos'd the men I love.
Soon I shall see them bound before my face—
How shall I dare to bid a last farewell
to the dear brother whom I murder? Never
shall I be able on his much-lov'd eye
to fix my looks again—

THOAS.
With cunning fables
these young deceivers play upon thy wishes,
and weave a glittering web of falsehood for thee.

IPHIGENIA.
No: I am not deceiv'd; they're true and honest.
Shouldst thou not find them so, then let them fall;
and banish me for loose credulity
to the black rocks of some deserted island.
But, if he be my dear, my long-wisht brother,
let us depart—extend the generous kindness
that thou hast shown the sister to us both.
My father, by his wife's contrivance fell:
she, by her son. The last and only hope
of Atreus' line on him alone reposes.
Let me with a pure heart and a pure hand
return to cleanse and to atone our home.
Yes! Thou wilt keep thy word—thou didst declare
that if return was e'er provided for me
thou wouldst not bar my flight: and now it is.
A king, like common men, does never grant
to gain a transient riddance from petition;
nor promise what, he trusts, will never claim
performance; for he feels his elevation
most, when conferring joy upon the hoper.

THOAS.
Unwillingly, as fire against water
that hissing seeks to overcome its foe,
my anger strives against thy words.

IPHIGENIA.
Let mercy,
like to the holy flame of sacrifice,
o'erhover the rude combat of thy breast;
that I may crown the still and lambent glory
with songs of praise and gratitude and joy.

THOAS.
How often has this voice assuag'd my soul.

IPHIGENIA.
Extend to me thy hand in sign of peace.

THOAS.
Methinks 'tis somewhat soon to ask so much.

IPHIGENIA.
Why should beneficence demand reflection?

THOAS.
Because good oft draws evil after it.

IPHIGENIA.
And hesitation oft turns good to evil.
Do not deliberate—indulge thy feelings.

IPHIGENIA, THOAS & ORESTES.
ORESTES
arm'd, addressing his followers.
Redouble your exertion to repel them.
Few moments are sufficient. Let their croud
not break your ranks: but keep the passage free
for me and for my sister to the ship.
[To Iphigenia, without perceiving Thoas.
Come, we have been betray'd. Our time is precious.
Away directly.

[He perceives the King.
THOAS
laying his hand on his sword
In my presence none
lifts with impunity a naked sword.

IPHIGENIA.
Do not profane these shades with violence
and murder. Bid your people to forbear
and hearken to the priestess and the sister.

ORESTES.
Who is this man that threaten'd us?

IPHIGENIA.
Respect
in him the king, that was my second father.
Forgive me, brother, that my childish heart
has put our fate entirely in his hands.
I have acknowleg'd to him your intentions,
and sav'd my soul from conscious treachery.

ORESTES.
And will he peaceably permit our going?

IPHIGENIA.
Thy naked sword prohibits a reply.

ORESTES.
Speak then. Thou seest I listen to thy words.

[Orestes sheathes his weapon. Noise of strife without. Pylades enters; and soon after him Arkas, both with drawn swords.
IPHIGENIA, THOAS, ORESTES, PYLADES, & ARKAS.
PYLADES.
Make haste, our people summon their last efforts;
but numbers press them slowly toward the sea.
How! do I find assembled princes here?
This is the honour'd person of the king.

ARKAS.
Calmly, and as becomes thee, mighty prince,
thou standest among foes: but soon their rashness
will meet due chastisement. Their crew are flying;
and next their ship is ours. At thy command
it sinks in flame.

THOAS.
Hie thee back
and stay our soldiers. Let the foe be spar'd
'till we have finisht speaking.

[Arkas goes.
ORESTES.
I consent.
Go, my dear Pylades, collect the friends
who yet are left us, and await in calmness
the end decreed our enterprize by heaven.

[Pylades goes.
IPHIGENIA.
Remove my cares ere ye begin to speak.
I fear sad strife, if thou be not dispos'd
to hearken, prince, to equity and reason:
if thou, my brother, be not also willing
to damp the sallies of thy warmer youth.

THOAS.
I, as becomes the elder, bind my anger.
Now answer me, how dost thou prove thyself
the son of Agamemnon?

ORESTES.
Here's the sword
with which he slew the valiant men of Troy—
I took it from his murderer, and besought
the gods to grant the courage, arm, and fortune
of that great king, and a more glorious death.
Choose one among the nobles of thine army ,
and place the best of them against me here.
Far as the endless earth produces heroes
this prayer to no stranger is denied.

THOAS.
Our ancient customs have preserv'd no trace
of such a privilege.

ORESTES.
From thee and me
then let this novel usage take its date:
an imitating people soon shall hallow
their sovereign's noble actions into law.
Nor let me only for our own deliverance;
but let a stranger for all strangers fight.
If I should fall—their fate be spoke by mine.
If I should conquer—let no stranger step
upon this shore, on whom the kindling eye
of welcome beams not, and let none depart
uncomforted, unsatisfy'd, unaided.

THOAS.
Young man, thou dost not seem to me unworthy
of those from whom thou claimest thy descent.
Great is the number of the brave and noble
that wait on me; but even at my age
I have not learnt in war to play the sluggard.
Myself will try with thee the lot of arms.

IPHIGENIA.
No, no. Such bloody proofs, o king, are needless.
Unhand your swords. Think what have I at stake.
Rash combat oft eternizes a man:
if he should fall, the song of praise is his;
but ah! the tears, the never-ending tears
of the abandon'd, the surviving woman
posterity ne'er reckons, and the poet
names not the thousand days and nights of weeping
wherein her anguisht soul with fruitless groans
calls on her hastily-departed friend.—
I had my terrors least a pirate's art
was drawing me from this secure asylum
to sell me into bondage, and my questions
explor'd each circumstance, required tokens,
and now my heart is fully satisfy'd.
See here upon his right-hand is the mark
as of three stars of blood, which, on the day
that he was born, the priest explain'd to mean
some bloody deed to which the gods reserv'd him.
Then on his brow thou seest this crooked scar —
Electra, in her hasty headlong way,
dropp'd him, while yet an infant, from her arms,
he fell against a tripos—O 'tis he!
Shall I yet add his likeness to his father—
and the warm transports of my inmost heart,
to the abundant proofs of certainty?

THOAS.
But had thy words remov'd my ev'ry doubt,
and had I tam'd the anger of my breast,
yet must we fight. I see no chance of peace.
Thou hast thyself acknowleg'd that they come
to steal the holy image of the goddess,
and do ye think that I will see it calmly?—
The Greek is wont to turn his greedy eye
upon the distant treasures of barbarians,
a golden fleece, or horses, or fair daughters;
but force and cunning have not always led them
in safety home with their ill-gotten wealth.

ORESTES.
The statue will not be a cause of quarrel.
We now perceive the error, which the god
hung o'er our clouded eyes, while hitherward
he suffer'd us to bend our dangerous course.
When I besought his counsel and assistance
to banish the Eumenides, he answer'd:
“When thy pious hand from Tauris
“the unwilling inmate brings
“of the ancient sanctuary,
“and the sister of my care
“to the Grecian shore conveys,
“then thy curse shall terminate.”
We thought but of Apollo's sister then—
Thou wast the promise of the oracle.
Thy lasting bonds are broken now. Thou art
once more, thou holy one, restor'd to us.
Toucht by thy hand a healing virtue reach'd me:
and in thy arms for the last time my evil
seiz'd me, and shook me to the soul, then fled,
as to its den a snake. I now injoy
once more thro' thee the spreading light of day.
With awful admiration I contemplate
the councils of the goddess. Like an image
to which the gods unalterably bind
by hidden means the fate of mighty cities,
she took thee, the protectress of thy house,
away, in holy solitude preserv'd thee
to be a future blessing to thy brother,
and all thy kindred. When for us no safety
on the wide earth seem'd left, thou givst us all.—
[To Thoas.
O monarch, let thy soul incline to peace;
do not prevent her from accomplishing
the purifying of her father's palace:
let her to an auspicious home restore me
and on my forehead place the ancient crown.—
Return the blessings that her coming brought thee.—
Let me injoy my earlier nearer right.
Cunning and force, the highest praise of man,
fade in the rays of her superior mind:
her truth, her pure affecting confidence
in Thoas' noble soul will be rewarded.

IPHIGENIA.
Think on thy promise: and let these few words
from a plain, honest tongue, produce their end.
[Taking Orestes by the hand.
Look on us—'tis not often thou wilt find
an opportunity for such a deed.
Thou never canst refuse us—grant it soon.

THOAS.
Go then.

IPHIGENIA.
Not so, my king. With thy reluctance
unblest and frown'd upon, I cannot go.
Banish us not; but let the friendly ties
of hospitality unite us still:
so shall we not for ever be divided
and torn asunder. Thou art dear to me
as was my father, and the deep impression
for life remains engraven on my soul.
If but the least among thy people bring
his well-known accent back upon my ear,
I will receive him like a god, prepare
with my own hand the couch for his repose,
invite him to a seat beside our hearth,
and question him about thy fate and thee.
O may the gods shower down upon thy head
the merited reward of all thy worth,
thy goodness, and thy mercies! King, farewell.
O look upon us, and in answer give me
one parting salutation: so the wind
shall swell our sails more gently, and the tear
of separation, with less anguish burst
from these moist eyes. Farewell. Extend to me
in pledge of ancient friendship, thy right hand.

THOAS,
giving his hand.
Farewell.