Volume 14 / Act 5 — SCENE III

IPHIGENIA, THOAS

IPHIGENIA

Me hast thou summon'd? wherefore art thou here?

THOAS

Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.

IPHIGENIA

I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.

THOAS

From thee I wish to hear them more at large.

IPHIGENIA

The goddess for reflection grants thee time.

THOAS

To thee this time seems also opportune.

IPHIGENIA

If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel'd, Thou shouldst not come! A king who meditates A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow, Willing for hire to bear one-half the curse, And leave the monarch's presence undefil'd. Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death, Flaming destruction then his ministers Hurl down upon his wretched victim's head, While he abideth high above the storm, Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.

THOAS

A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.

IPHIGENIA

No priestess, king! but Agamemnon's daughter; While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words A princess now,—and think'st thou to command me? From youth I have been tutor'd to obey, My parents first and then the deity; And thus obeying, ever hath my soul Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now Have I been taught compliance with the voice And savage mandates of a man.

THOAS

Not I, An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.

IPHIGENIA

Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws Which they can wield as weapons. But to me Another law, one far more ancient, speaks And doth command me to withstand thee, king! That law declaring sacred every stranger.

THOAS

These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart, When sympathy with them can lead thee thus To violate discretion's primal law, That those in power should never be provok'd.

IPHIGENIA

Speaking or silent, thou canst always know What is, and ever must be, in my heart. Doth not remembrance of a common doom, To soft compassion melt the hardest heart? How much more mine! in them I see myself. I trembling kneel'd before the altar once, And solemnly the shade of early death Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life; A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul; My eyes grew dim; I found myself in safety. Are we not bound to render the distress'd The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd? Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?

THOAS

Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.

IPHIGENIA

Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness. Though woman, I am born as free as man. Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand, And thou requiredst what became him not, His arm and trusty weapon would defend His bosom's freedom. I have only words; But it becomes a noble-minded man To treat with due respect the words of woman.

THOAS

I more respect them than a brother's sword.

IPHIGENIA

Uncertain ever is the chance of arms, No prudent warrior doth despise his foe; Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft And, willy, cunning; artful he delays, Evades, eludes, and finally escapes. Such arms are justified by violence.

THOAS

But circumspection countervails deceit.

IPHIGENIA

Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.

THOAS

Do not incautiously condemn thyself.

IPHIGENIA

Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul, Courageously to ward the first attack Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me! Do I then stand before thee weaponless? Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand, More potent far than instruments of war, Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend? Must I implore a miracle from heaven? Is there no power within my spirit's depths?

THOAS

Extravagant thy interest in the fate Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd.

IPHIGENIA

They are—they seem at least—I think them Greeks.

THOAS

Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd The pleasing picture of return.

IPHIGENIA (after a pause)

Doth man Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds? Doth he alone to his heroic breast Clasp the impossible? What call we great? What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift with shuddering horror the narrator's soul, But those which, with improbable success, The valiant have attempted? Shall the man Who all alone steals on his foes by night, And raging like an unexpected fire, Destroys the slumbering host, and press'd at length By rous'd opponents on his foeman's steeds, Retreats with booty—be alone extoll'd? Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us? Must gentle woman quite forego her nature, Force against force employ, like Amazons Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel The stirrings of a noble enterprize; But if I fail—severe reproach, alas! And bitter misery will be my doom. Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods! Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are, Now prove it by your countenance and aid; Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king A secret plot deceitfully is laid; Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain; They have departed hence and seek their friends, Who, with the ship, await them on the shore. The eldest,—whom dire madness lately seiz'd, And hath abandon'd now,—he is Orestes, My brother, and the other Pylades, His early friend and faithful confidant. From Delphi, Phoebus sent them to this shore With a divine command to steal away The image of Diana, and to him Bear back the sister thither, and for this He promised to the blood-stained matricide, The Fury-haunted son, deliverance. I have surrender'd now into thy hands The remnants of the house of Tantalus. Destroy us—if thou canst.

THOAS

And dost thou think That the uncultured Scythian will attend The voice of truth and of humanity Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?

IPHIGENIA

'Tis heard By every one, born 'neath whatever clime, Within whose bosom flows the stream of life, Pure and unhinder'd.—What thy thought? O king, What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul? Is it destruction? Let me perish first! For now, deliv'rance hopeless, I perceive The dreadful peril into which I have With rash precipitancy plung'd my friends. Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me! How to my brother shall I say farewell? I, the unhappy author of his death. Ne'er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!

THOAS

The traitors have contrived a cunning web, And cast it round thee, who, secluded long, Giv'st willing credence to thine own desires.

IPHIGENIA

No, no! I'd pledge my life these men are true. And shouldst thou find them otherwise, O king, Then let them perish both, and cast me forth, That on some rock-girt island's dreary shore I may atone my folly. Are they true, And is this man indeed my dear Orestes, My brother, long implor'd,—release us both, And o'er us stretch the kind protecting arm Which long hath shelter'd me. My noble sire Fell through his consort's guilt,—she by her son; On him alone the hope of Atreus' race Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand, Let me depart to purify our house. Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear, That were a safe return provided me, I should be free to go. The hour is come. A king doth never grant like common men, Merely to gain a respite from petition; Nor promise what he hopes will ne'er be claim'd. Then first he feels his dignity supreme When he can make the long-expecting happy.

THOAS

As fire opposes water, and doth seek With hissing rage to overcome its foe, So doth my anger strive against thy words.

IPHIGENIA

Let mercy, like the consecrated flame Of silent sacrifice, encircled round With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise, Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.

THOAS

How often hath this voice assuag'd my soul!

IPHIGENIA

Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.

THOAS

Large thy demand within so short a time.

IPHIGENIA

Beneficence doth no reflection need.

THOAS

'Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.

IPHIGENIA

'Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn. Consider not; act as thy feelings prompt thee.