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 wily 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 shudd'ring 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 or his foemen'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 nought 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; Honour the truth in me! Attend, O king! A secret plot is laid; 'tis vain to ask Touching the captives; they are gone, and seek Their comrades who await them on the shore. The eldest,--he whom madness lately seiz'd, And who is now recover'd,--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, promising for this Redemption to the blood-stain'd matricide. I have deliver'd now into thy hands The remnants of the house of Tantalus. Destroy us--if thou canst.