THOAS, _alone_.

Fierce anger rages in my riven breast, First against her, whom I esteem'd so pure; Then 'gainst myself, whose foolish lenity Hath fashion'd her for treason. Man is soon Inur'd to slavery, and quickly learns Submission, when of freedom quite depriv'd.

If she had fallen in the savage hands Of my rude sires, and had their holy rage Forborne to slay her, grateful for her life, She would have recogniz'd her destiny.

Have shed before the shrine the stranger's blood, And duty nam'd what was necessity.

Now my forbearance in her breast allures Audacious wishes. Vainly I had hop'd To bind her to me; rather she contrives To shape an independent destiny.

She won my heart through flattery; and now That I oppose her, seeks to gain her ends By fraud and cunning, and my kindness deems A worthless and prescriptive property.

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 G.o.ddess 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.

Enwrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death, Whose flaming arrow on his victim's head His hirelings hurl; while he above the storm Remains untroubl'd, an impa.s.sive G.o.d.

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 claim obedience from thee.

IPHIGENIA.

Our pa.s.sions 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 compa.s.sion 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 G.o.ds 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 n.o.ble-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 wily cunning: artful he delays, Evades, eludes, and finally escapes.

Such arms are justified by violence.

THOAS.

But circ.u.mspection 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.