TO HER GRACE the DUTCHESS OF MARLBOROUGH.
MADAM,
THE following Play seems naturally to claim the Patronage of a Lady, for which Reason no true Englishman will wonder that the first Person who occurred to my Thoughts on this occasion should be the Dutchess of Marlborough.
[Page]Not all the Security we enjoy by our safe and honourable Peace, can make us unmindful of the Gratitude we owe to your Name. All the Blessings which have been procured for us by our late Treaties, are not greater, than what might have been expected from the long Course of the Duke of Marlborough's Victories.
If we are at leisure to cultivate the Politer Arts, if our Trade flourishes, if our Credit rises both at Home and Abroad, if we have obtained a general Peace for our Allies, if the Catalans are obliged to us for our Protection, the Germans [...]or our Faith, and the French for our Generosity; who could have promised to themselves less Honours and Advantages for their Country, from the many Glorious Campaigns and uninterrupted Successes of our late Great General.
It has been often observed, that when the French have been worsted in the Field they have saved themselves by Treaties; but such are the consummate Abilities o [...] our present Ministers, that the World is as much astonish'd at their Negotiations, [Page] [...]s it was before at the Duke of Marlborough's Conquests.
There are indeed too many among us, who are apt to be affrighted at every thing that seems to threaten our Religion and Liberties; but why should private Men believe themselves in any Danger from the Pretender, when the Government is not apprehensive of it? But this is certain, we have less Reason to be so [...] while He is still living who has so often defeated the Ambition of France, and broken its best concerted Measures.
Among the many eminent Virtues which I might here take occasion of celebrating in your Grace, I shall only single out that which I believe your Grace will be most delighted to hear mentioned, I mean that truly conjugal Fri [...]ndship and Affection with which you accompany this Great Man in His Absence from His native Country, and share with him in all the Cares and Inquietudes his Extraordinary Merit has brought upon him.
[Page]That You may have many Years in reserve for your own mutual Happiness [...] as well as for your Country's Good, i [...] the hearty Desire of every honest Man [...] and particularly of, Madam,
Y [...]ur GRACE's Most Obedient and Most Humble Servant,
ADVERTISEMENT.
THE following TRAGEDY was Originally Written in French by the celebrated Monsieur RACINE, whose Master-Piece it is justly accounted; and having been translated into English, with considerable Additions, by Mr. BOYER, and pass'd the Correction and Approbation of the late famous Mr. DRYDEN, and several other Persons distinguish'd as well by their Wit and Learning, as by their Taste and Discernment, was acted with general Applause, towards the End of the Year 1699, and Beginning of 1700. The Reasons why this Excellent PLAY stopt, on a sudden, in a full Career, are, in some Measure, accounted for in Mr. BOYER'S Preface: To which he might [Page] have added, That the Dutchess of MARLBOROUGH, who at that Time bore an irresistible Sway, bespoke the Comedy then in Vogue, during the Run of Iphigenia in Aulis; And that this Tragedy receiv'd no small Prejudice, from the Person that acted Eriphile, who sunk under the Weight of so great a Part.
This TRAGEDY having lain dormant for many Years, was lately revived, in the most IRREGULAR MANNER, that was ever known or practised either on PARNASSUS, by Poets; or on the STAGE, by ACTORS. The Town has already done Mr. BOYER some Justice, by Discovering the Imposition, and by Finding out, that the VICTIM was no other than ACHILLES and IPHIGENIA in AULIS. The Publishing a SECOND EDITION of this Play, (which was out of Print) is sufficient to justify the Iudgment of the Publick, and vindicate Mr. Boyer's Right. But the manner in which his Performance, and Himself, have been abused is so flagrant and injurious, that he designs, in few Days, to publish a short DISSERTATION, on the PRESENT MANAGEMENT of the STAGE, Addressed to My Lord CHAMBERLAIN, wherein he shall set in a true Light, [Page] the PERNICIOUS CONSEQUENCES of such Vnfair Practises both of some Writers and Players; and in particular, inquire into the Reason, Why Mr. Wilks declined to revive, this very Tragedy, for the Entertainment of the Duke D' AUMONT, who, by his Secretary Monsieur l' AB [...]E NADAL, had Intimated to Mr. Boyer, his Desire to see it represented; which Mr. Boyer signified to Mr. Wilks?
TO THE PLAGIARY OF Mr. BOYER's IPHIGENIA.
VAin is Racine's and Boyer's Labouring Wit!
The one Improving what the other Writ:
Both fall a Sacrifice to thy Third-Day
And Lovely Iphigenia is thy Prey.
Nor knows the Nimph if she should more detest
Calchas or Thee; the Pirate or the Priest?
Her ancient Tears and Griefs, from him proceed
Who brought Her to Diana's Shrine to bleed:
But that She Mourns unpitied in her Woes,
The Wretched Virgin to thy Dulness owes.
Her Life alone was Wicked Calchas's Aim:
Thou touchest a yet tenderer Part, her Fame.
Thy Theft has all her Grace and Lustre soil'd;
Thou Stolest the Beauty first, and after spoil'd.
So fares it with that desperate Band, who live
On Prey and Rapine, and by Injury thrive.
Those whom they Wrong, with Hatred they pursue,
And not content to Rob, they Murder too.
ACHILLES: OR, IPHIGENIA in AVLIS. A TRAGEDY AS It is Acted at the Theatre Royal in Drury-lane.
Written by Mr. BOYER.
Rectius Iliacum Carmen deducis in actus,
Quam si proferres ignota indictaque prius.
Horat. Art. Poet.
LONDON. Printed for Tho. Bennet, at the Half-moon in St. Pauls Church-yard. 1700.
Persons Represented.
The MEN.
- Agamemnon, King of the Argos, General o [...] the Grecians, in their Expedition against Troy.
- Mr. Wilks.
- Achilles, in Love with Iphigenia.
- Mr. Powel.
- Vlysses,
- Mr. Cibber.
- Arcas, Confident to Agamemnon,
- Mr. Mills.
- Eurybat [...]s, Captain of the King's Guards,
- Mr. Toms.
- Calchas, The High Priest,
- Mr. Cibber.
The WOMEN.
- Clytemnes [...]ra, Wife to Agamemnon,
- Mrs. Knight.
- Iphigenia, Daughter to Agamemnon,
- Mrs. Rogers.
- Eriphile, Daughter to Theseus and Helena, Achilles's Prisoner,
- Mrs. Wilkins.
- Aegina, Woman to Clytemnestra,
- Mrs. Baker.
- Doris, Woman to Eriphile,
- Mrs. Boden.
Women, Guards, Priests, and Attendants.
The SCENE the Grecian Camp at Aulis [...]
THE DEDICATION TO The Beautiful and Ingenious DIANA.
Madam,
DEdications are grown so Modish, that a Play makes as ill a Figure without one, as a Beau in the Side-Box without a long Wig.
Yet I must freely own, that the greatest Trouble this Tragedy gave me, was the fixing it on a proper Person to Patronize it. Those whose Merit entitles them to these solemn Addresses, are generally unwilling to have their Names expos'd; and such who are most fond of seeing their Pedigrees, and Encomiums pre [...]ix'd to a Play, do commonly fasten upon the Poet the scandalous Character of a vile Flatterer.
One of my Friends advis'd me to o [...]er this Piece to a great Lord; but not being Secretary to his Mistress, I was a [...]raid of meeting with a cold Reception. Another would persuade me to Dedicate to a Courtier; but I am either too Modest or too Proud to appear with a cringing Assurance at a Levee; and too great a Lover of Truth to commend a Fop in Favour. Another would have me Address to a Beau-Knight; but he being lately broke at Basset, and his Taylor's and Perwig-maker's Bills coming thick upon him, I was unwilling to put in for one amongst his needy Visitants. Lastly, a [...]ourth would have engag'd me to make my Achilles and Iphigenia court the shelter of some Rich Citizen; but my Muse was too aspiring to pro [...]itute herself to a Plebeian
Thus having review'd all Patrons of all Ranks, and m [...] turely consider'd the several pitiful Means by which some Poets intrude into their Protection, I wa [...] induc'd, for m [...] ny Reasons, to lay this Tragedy on fair Diana' Shrine.
[Page]First of all, as ancient Poets tell us, the Greek Iphigenia owing its Preservation to Diana in Aulis, I hope the Person who is willing to borrow the Name of that Goddess, will likewise receive the English Iphigenia under her Patronage.
Besides, by thus prefixing your feign'd Name to this Play, I spare my self the trouble of a begging Visit, and you the Sight of a Dunning Dedicator.
But, Madam, the most prevalent Motive with me is, That I may commend you without being suspected of Adulation, or making your Modesty uneasy. I may freely proclaim to the World, that you make Conquests by your Beauty, and secure them by your Wit; that your Sense [...]quals your Wit, and that your good Humour is inferiour to nei [...]her. I may boldly say, that you are free with innocence; Modest without A [...]fectation; and Virtuous without Pride. That at once you command Love and Respect; and that nothing surpasses the Charms of your Conversation, but your admirable way of Writing.
Nay, I might take a greater Latitude with you than any Poet ever did with his Patron, for I might tell you of your Faults, and reproach your cruel Indifference, not to say, Ingratitude. I might con [...]irm my constant Love to you, and expostulate your broken Promises of eternal Friendship. I might remind you of your Letters, without putting you [...]o the Blush, or incurring my self the charge of Indiscretion, since nothing can be more secret than what I now speak in Publick.
All these Advantages I find in Dedicating to my charm [...]g Diana; and if she proves so kind as to bless me once more with her endearing Company, I will esteem this Ep [...]tle better rewarded than any I writ before. I remain with all the Sincerity of a Lover and a Poet.
Charming DIANA,
Your most devoted humble Servant. A. BOYER
From behind the [...] Drury-lane, [...].
THE PREFACE.
POets, like most Lovers, are apt to boast the Favours, or complain of the [...]gour of their Mistress, the Town: For my part, I am too discreet a Lover to boa [...], and too young a Poet to complain; and tho' the First r [...]n of thi [...] Play was but short, yet I must own my self oblig'd to the Civility of the English Nation; for on this Occasion, a [...] on many others, I found that the Imputation of [...]eing inh [...]spitable and rude to Strangers, which Horace charges on the Britons, reaches no higher than the Mob.
Some of my Friends wonder'd that a Play which was ac [...]ed with so much Applause, should stop so soon in its career. The Reason of it is obvious: This Tragedy came out upon the N [...]ck of another of the same Name, which being the p [...]oduct of a Giant-Wit, and a Giant-Critick, like Horace's Mountain in Labour, had miserably balk'd the World's Expectation; and most People having been tir'd at Lincolns-Inn-Fields, did not [...]are to venture their Patience at Drury-lane, upon a false Supposition that the two Iphigenia's were much alike: Whereas they differ no less than a young, airy Vi [...]gin, [...]rom a stale, antiquated Maid.
Anoth [...]r difficulty this Play labour'd under, was its being acted at a time when the whole Town was so much, and so justly diverted by the Trip to the Jubilee. A merry Entertainment is certainly very impro [...]er to prepare the Tas [...]es of an A [...]dience to relish a grave and solemn Tragedy; [...]or we are naturally angry with those who would make us W [...]ep, when we are in a sit of Laughing. Yet notwithstanding all th [...]se Inconveniencies, my Iph [...]g [...]nia has pleas'd the fairest Part of the Town, I mean the L [...]di [...]s, and having gain'd this Point, [...] my Wishes.
N [...]w when I call this Play mine, let me not be thought so [...] a [...] to a [...]me the Honour o [...] [...]he Comp [...]si [...]ion [Page] wholl [...] to my se [...]f. The Subject o [...] it is taken from a Greek [...] of [...]uripides: This Monsieur Racin [...] brought upo [...] [...] the Addition of the [...]isode of Eriphile, Ac [...]illes [...] [...], which [...] his P [...]ot more full [...].
[...] Racine manag'd his Subject with a great d [...]al [...] [...]a [...]tery: H [...]s Expressions are [...] and lofty; his Sen [...] [...]ts noble and [...]irtrous; his Passions moving and na [...]ral [...] [...] well manag'd and surprizing; the whole Piece r [...]g [...]l [...]r. The success answer'd [...] extraordinary Perform [...]nce; [...]phigenia at her first Appearance on the French [...], and commanded Admiration both from the Co [...]t a [...]d the C [...]ty, for many Months successively; and set Monsi [...] [...]a [...]in [...] above the Level of all French Tragick Writ [...].
The g [...]eat [...]ccess of Racine's Iphigenia, and the Enco [...] [...]g [...]me [...]t I rec [...]iv'd [...]rom some Persons of a just Discernme [...]t, made me venture to make her appear u [...]on an Eng [...]sh Thea [...]re; [...], whe [...]her she has gain'd or l [...]st any Thing [...] her ne [...] [...], I leave to the Iudicious to determin [...]. [...] I can say in h [...]r Favour, is, That her numbers are easy and sl [...]wing; and that she speaks English like a genteel well- [...]re [...] Lady, and not like an affected, pedantick Would-be-Wi [...]. But in this I must own my self oblig'd to my hono [...]r'd and [...]genious [...]rie [...]d Mr. Cheek, to whom I owe some of [...] smoo [...]hest Line [...]. I wish he had a greater share in the whol [...] Play, [...]or then I am sure the Town would have lik'd [...]t a great deal better.
THE PROLOGUE.
APollo t'other Day in Council sat,
Where after many a [...]ned and wise Debate,
[...] so [...]ast encrease,
To [...] [...]nd keep the Peace,
I [...] was [...]— As w [...]ll the Cause it sits,
To Reinforce his Regiment of Wits,
Among the rest, the Author of this Play
Here takes his Post, and enters into Pay.
He hopes to keep it too with Reputation,
And stem the Tide of Folly in the Nation.
That's a hard Task—, and I'm afraid it tends
To make him lose abundance of his Friends:
Yet tho' he has obtain'd a Priviledge,
He would be very loath to Disoblige.
The Race of [...]ops his Satyr ne [...]re will drive at,
If modestly they'll play the Fool in private.
But if they still appear in publick Places,
With fashionable Nonsense and Grimaces,
He must not let 'em scape without Derision,
That were a Crime would forfeit his Commission.
Yet in this Play no Satyr will appear.
All that deserve it are in safety here.
From great Euripides he drew this Piece,
Euripides the boast of ancient Greece.
And wondrous Beauties of each coming [...],
With Pride he owns he borrow'd [...]rom Racine.
Then, since thes [...] Poets had such great Success.
Why mayn't ours please you in an English d [...]
Yet tho' like them the labour'd Scene he draws,
With just regard to the Dramatick Laws,
He'd not be thought of that vain-glorious Tribe,
Who their own Rules imperiously prescribe.
He better knows what to your Taste is due,
And writes well, only when he pleases you
His Muse in Nature's Majesty appears,
She has no Sounds Tremendous to the Ears;
And if once more he should attempt to w [...]e.
His Pen shall Draw, your Palate shall In [...].
THE EPILOGUE.
THE Deuce take Poet, Epilogue, and Play [...]
The Devil a Word know I what I've to say,
Who'll mind his Cant? An Audience, like a Lover,
Longs to be gone soon as the Play is over,
As [...]or Example—.
Y [...]nd' mobb'd-up, civil, modest Velvet Fa [...]es
Long to be Coach'd to more diverting Places.
Not one would stay, tho' they but now sneak'd in;
When our Play ends, theirs always does begin.
Kind Cull, and Miss steal out from th'Epilogue,
And merrier Scenes are acted at the Dog.
You rakish Sparks in quest of Game run out,
And give or take the Covent-garden Gout.
Your Student who but came to see the Play,
With some Pit-Muse his Talent would essay.
Some at Basset long to encr [...]ase their Guineas,
And leave 'em there, and then sneak home like Ninnies.
You Topers long to drink in ample Glasses
Confusion to dull Poets and pale Faces.
But above all yond [...] City Fry would go,
Who came by Thr [...]e to sit on that First Row.
Poor Things!
They thought e're this that they might home have scutled,
Their Time's all spent, and all their Apples guttled.
The Poet (if he's not quite Dead for Fear)
Wou'd go to Wills [...]ncog. t'observe his Criticks there.
Scarce one wou'd s [...]ay but that obliging Fry,
Who about this [...]ime in our dark Passage ply,
Stale Wenches, Sharpers, Catterwawling Sparks,
Old dirty Beaux [...] and young Attornies Clerks.
Since then your Business lyes another way,
I hope you have not Time to damn the Play;
But if you must, do't on the Poets Day.
ACHILLES: OR, IPHIGENIA in AVLIS. A TRAGEDY.
ACT 1. SCENE 1.
A Camp near the Sea Shore. A Fleet at a distance. The Curtain rises and disco [...]ers Agamemnon with a Letter in his Hand.
Agam.
ARCAS, what hoa! Arcas, awake!
[...]e hears me not: Sweet Sleep sea [...]s fast his Eyes.
He is no King, he is no wretched Fath [...]r,
Who [...]atally has promis'd his own Child,
To be a bloody [...]ictim to Ambition.
Oh! Agamemnon [...] Thou hast banish'd Rest
For ever, ever banish'd Peace of Mind,
To grasp the shadow o [...] a mighty Name.
Arcas! I say, what hoa! Arcas.
Enter Arcas.
Arc.
Great Sir, I come — [...] But what concern
Has rouz'd you from your Bed before the Morn?
There's scarce a glimmering Light to guide our St [...]ps;
All Eyes but you [...]s and mine are clo [...]'d in Aulis
What! Has some welcome noise distu [...]b'd the Air?
And are the Wind [...] propitious to our Wi [...]hes?
But, no— All sleeps: The Camp, the Winds, and Nep [...]une.
Agam.
Oh Ha [...]py! Who content [...]d with his State,
[...]ree [...]rom the G [...]d [...] Th [...]aldom of a C [...]own [...]
S [...]curely li [...]es in an obs [...] Ret [...]at
[Page] [...]
[Page 3] If you'd obtain the Winds the Heavens deny,
Sac [...]ifice Iphigenia—
Arc.
Your Daugh [...]er!
Agam.
Amaz'd and Speechles [...] for a while I stood:
My t [...]embling Spi [...]its c [...]ill'd within my Veins:
[...]t when m [...] [...]roken Voice bu [...]st out a Passage,
I c [...]st the Gods and [...]ow'd to disobey.
My [...]st resolve was [...]o dismiss the Army,
W [...]i [...] [...] U [...]ss [...]s seemi [...]gly approv'd,
To l [...]t my raging Pa [...]ion take it [...] course.
B [...] soon em [...]loying his perswading Arts,
He [...] [...]ore m [...] a [...]l the ties [...]f Honou [...];
Thos [...] Troops and Princ [...] under my Command,
T [...] [...]a [...]tern Empire [...]a [...]ed [...] [...]e ours,
A [...]l [...] [...]uld raise Ambition to a height.
[...] Ti [...]le of the King o [...] Kings,
[...] the haughty weakness of my Soul.
Besides, the Gods a [...]soon as gloomy Night,
Began to lull my Cares in gentle Sl [...]mbers,
With angry Dreams reproach'd my impious Pity,
And th [...]eatn'd vengeance to my troubled Mind;
With Tears I yielded and pronounc'd the Doom
Of my unhappy Daughte [...]—.
But now, what barbarous cunning did I use,
To d [...]aw her [...]om her Mothers tender A [...]mes
I sent her Orders to repair to Aulis:
Pretending that Achilles prest to go,
Would wed my Daughter, e're we put to Sea.
Arc.
But fear you not Achilles's boiling Rage?
Think you that unc [...]n [...]ern'd he'll calmly see,
His Name abus'd to Sac [...]ifice his Love?
Agam.
Achilles then had left the Camp: To meet
His Father P [...]leu [...]'s insulting Foes;
And all expected this new kindled War,
Would [...]or a while employ hi [...] early Courage.
But what can stop this Heroes rapid course?
Achilles [...]ights and Triumphs a [...] he r [...]ns,
And vving with the swi [...]test Wings o [...] [...]ame,
Return'd last Night to join our wond [...]ing Arm [...].
Arc
And has he learn'd wh [...]t Fate a [...]ends hi [...] B [...]de.
Agem.
He has not—.
Bu [...] [...]ill a st [...]onger motive holds my Arm:
[...] Daughter who with eager jo [...] app [...]o [...],
[...]o meet a longing Lover and a Father,
(The kindest Father as She may suppose)
My Da [...]g [...]ter meets inevitable Death.
[Page 4]My Daughter [...] at that sacred Name I shake;
Yet, [...]tis not Blood alone endears her to me,
Her Love, her Piety, her gentle Nature,
A thousand blooming Virtues I regret.
N [...] no, I'll [...]e're perform the Sacrifice,
[...] is too just to own so black a Dee [...],
[...] Pious I must disobey.
[...]
[...] how can you recal your sol [...]mn Promise?
[...]
[...] Th [...] Z [...]l and Prudence must pe [...]rm [...]hat [...]
[...] Q [...]n at Sparta try'd t [...]y Fai [...]
[...] this Lett [...] and convey it [...] h [...].
[...] Da [...]gh [...]rs [...]ing: For when onc [...]
[...] in [...], her Fate's past recal.
[...] Go [...] [...]nd Ch [...]lc [...]as will dem [...]nd their [...]ictim,
[...] m [...] Ten [...]e [...]nes [...] and slight [...] Tea [...];
[...] Gre [...]ians, jealous of my Po [...]e [...]
[...] hol [...] Bold [...]s [...] will protect their cl [...]im [...]
[...] m [...] w [...]e; perhaps qua [...]h my Command.
[...] her from the Gods, from my Ambiti [...]
But have a care not to reveal my secret;
Let [...]ot my Daughter know what ill I meant he [...].
[...]pare m [...] [...]he loud Reproaches of a Wi [...]e;
Spare me the soft Upbraidings of a Daughter;
And th [...]t thy Tongue may sute with what I write,
T [...]ll th [...]m A [...]h [...]ll [...]s [...]ing chang'd his Mind,
[...] Nu [...]tial Rites till we [...]eturn;
T [...]at young Eriphile, his Lesbian Captive,
W [...]o now at [...]ends my Daughter, is suppos'd
[...]o b [...] t [...] cause o [...] his indi [...]erence.
[...] the [...] Divine the [...]est—. Approaching Day
[...] me [...] D [...]pa [...]t. But who comes he [...]e?
Exit. Arcas.
[...]
[...] What! Ulysses with him?
A flourish o [...] Trumpets.
[...]nter Achilles, Ulysses.
[...]
[...], I [...] with pleasing Admiration,
[...] [...]ictory and Fame;
[...] o [...] untaught Valour,
[...] a [...]tend your riper Courage?
[...] all Thes [...]aly reduc'd,
[...] a [...]ero's tedious Toil,
Pro [...] [...] [...]n Am [...]sement to Achilles.
[...]
[...], you over-rate a tri [...]ling Conquest:
[...] Go [...]s open a nobler Field,
[...] great Prize you have propos'd,
[Page 5]To animate my Courage. But, My Lord,
Must I believe the joyful News I hear?
That to anticipate my di [...]tant Bliss,
Fair Iphigenia comes to the Camp,
To Crown my Wishes?
Agam.
My Daughter!
Who told you she's to come?
Achil.
You seem surpriz'd, my Lord, at this Report?
Agam.
Heav'n! How I fear my secret is reveal'd
To Ulysses.
And [...]ll my cunning lost!
Ul [...].
My Lord [...] the King's surprize
To Achill [...].
I [...] but [...]o [...]: Good Gods! Is this a time
To think on Nuptial Joy [...], when angry Heaven
Strikes terro [...] through the Camp? Whilst a dead Sea
Af [...]ights all Greece, and wastes our ling [...]ing Army;
Whilst to appease the unrelenting Gods,
A Victim, a dear Victim must be Sacrific'd,
Achilles minds his Love [...] as if he meant
T'insuit the publick Woes; must Agamemnon
Exasperate our Fate with Festivals?
Is this, my Lord, the tender Love you shew,
To your af [...]licted Country?
Achil
In Phr [...]g [...] Fields our Actions soon will prove
Whe [...]h [...]r U [...]ss [...]s [...] I love her most.
I [...] the mean [...]ime, you may display your Zeal;
Yo [...] may s [...]ly [...]ire th [...] Gods with Prayers,
A [...]d load thei [...] Altars with tame Of [...]erings;
You may consult [...]he pa [...]ting Victims Breast,
And s [...]arch the cause o [...] the Winds tedious Silence,
But a [...] [...]o [...] me, who leave that care to Calch [...]s,
I hope, my Lord, I may pursue a Marriage,
Which [...] no con [...]erns the Gods nor you—.
Yet, think not I'll dissolve in womanish Pleasures,
No, if I love, 'tis like the God of War,
Only to fill the vacancies of Action;
And my couragious Soul could never brook,
That any one should touch the Phrygian Shore
Be [...]ore Achilles—.
Agam.
Oh! Heaven! Why must thy secret Envy stop
The way to Asia, to such noble Heroes?
Must I be wi [...]ness o [...] so bright a Valour,
Only to withdraw home, with Grief and Shame?
Ulys.
Ye Gods! What do I hear?
Achil.
My Lord, What's that you utter'd?
Agam.
Princes, we must retire: Too long the Winds
Have tir'd our credulous Hopes with Expectation [...]
[Page] [...]
Achil.
You pry too far into the Gods Decree [...]
Besid [...], [...]hink you, my Lord, those [...]rivolous Th [...]eats,
Will ' [...]r [...] de [...]er Achilles [...]om pu [...]suing,
[...]onour and Glory under your Command?
What i [...] the [...]a [...]l Sisters did [...]or [...]ell.
Wh [...]n [...]st my Mother yielded to th' [...]mb [...]ace
O [...] mo [...]t [...]l Pel [...], that [...] might choose,
[...]ith [...]r to live [...]or many Y [...]ar [...] [...]s [...]u [...]e,
O [...] [...] [...]e [...]nal I ame by co [...]ing ea [...]ly [...]?
[...] I m [...]st at las [...] submit to Fate,
[...] be niggard o [...] a Goddess's Blood.
Wh [...]n Honour calls, let Oracles be silent—
[...] t [...]'Almighty Gods controul our [...]iv [...]
[...] [...]onour, Sir, depends on our own Action [...];
Then let us not re [...]d what they Decre [...],
[...]t [...]ather s [...]ive to [...]qual t [...]eir Con [...]ition
By our immo [...]tal D [...]ds. Now since at Troy
[...]oth [...]ame and Victo [...]y attend [...] I fly,
And on [...]y ask the Winds to wa [...]t me o're.
[...]et all th'a [...]f [...]ighted Greeks retire with Sha [...],
[Page 7] [...]
[Page 8]Does animate the Camp: When Greece proclaims
Your Zeal and Wisdom: Nay, when twenty Kings
Will Sacri [...]ice their Lives in your Defen [...]e,
You, Sir, alone refuse the glorious purchase
Of Honour and Revenge; a little Blood
You think too dear to gain immortal Fame.
Must It be said, the General of Greece
Employ'd his skill in nothing but Commanding
A sa [...]e Retreat?
Agam.
Alas! my Lord, how easily, whilst secure
From my impending Woes, you seem undaunted!
But was your Son Telemachus the Victim,
[...]ow soon the ghastly image of his Death,
Would turn to Tears your proud insulting Speech?
How deep you'd feel the Torments I endure
From struggling Nature! And how swi [...]t you'd [...]ly
To snatch him from the Priest! Yet since my promises past.
If my unhappy Daughter meets us here,
I'll not recall it, but if kinder Fate
Prevents her coming, you'll not think it strange,
If I accept the welcome Help of Heaven [...]
Too long your Counsels have prevail'd upon me [...]
I blush to think o [...]' [...]—
Enter Eurybates.
Euryb.
My Lord — [...]
Agam.
Gods! The News?
Euryb.
The Queen [...]id me [...]aste
To tell you her Approach: And that she brings
[...]er Daughter, to resign her to your Arms.
She had arriv'd before, but that she lost
[...]er way, through those thick Woods that sh [...]owd the Camp
Agam.
Oh! Heav'n!
Euryb.
They are attended
By young Eriphile, Achilles's Lesbian Captive,
Who being unacquainted with the Parents,
D [...]signs to learn her Fate from Renown'd Chalebas.
The News of their ar [...]ival is now s [...]e [...]d
Through all the Camp, and with loud Acclamations,
The joyful Soldiers crowd about the Queen,
And your [...]air Daughter; some enquire the Cause
That brings them hither: Others are contented,
To pray the Gods for their P [...]osperity.
But with a common Voice, all b [...]s [...] their General,
A [...] the most glo [...]ious King, and happy Father.
Agam.
[Page 9]'Tis well—, you may retire—, I'll make them welcome.
Exit. Eurybates.
Thus to secure its Vengeance, angry Heaven
Breaks all the Measures of my Policy!
Yet i [...] I was allow'd the Priviledge
Of soothing Tears, it were some Comfort! But
The ba [...]barous Fate of Kings sets us on high,
To lie expo [...]'d to all the Bolts of Fortune,
And be a gazing-stock to those below.
Thus still b [...]set by troublesom Spectators,
Tho' most unhappy, we must least complain.
Ulys.
My Lord, I am a Father, nay, a tender Father,
Who feelingly resents your cruel Woe:
I shudder at the stroke that makes you sigh,
And e'en would weep to countenance your Tears [...]
But your denial can have no Excuse,
The Gods have brought their Victim to the Camp,
Calchas expects it, and will soon demand it.
Yet, whilst we are alone, let flowing Tears
Express your Sorrow: Your concern allows them.
But, no—, let rather your undaunted Soul
Consider the vast Glory you shall reap.
Behold the Hellespont yields to our Oars;
Behold our Flames devour persidious Troy;
Her Subjects made your Slaves; King Priamus
Grasping your Knees, and Helena resto [...]'d.
Behold our numerous Fleet returns to Aulis
Crown'd with success: Behold that pompous Triumph,
That will be the sam'd Tale of After-ages.
Agam.
My Lord, I find how weak and impotent,
All my Efforts would be t'oppose the Gods.
And since it is decreed, that Innocence
Must be opprest, I—, no—, [...] I'll never yield:
Oh! Cruel Fate! Inexorable Gods!
Ulys.
My Lord, remember
Your solemn Vows, and dread th' Almighty Powers.
Consult your Safety—; Nay, consult your Honour [...]
Agam.
Oh! Hard Necessity!
Oh! Wretch [...]d Father! Yet engage the Priest
To Silence for a while: Let me, at least,
Be Guiltless for one Moment: Let me hide,
From Clytemnestra, my black, barbarous Arts;
And spare her tender Heart the cruel Sight,
Of a dear Daughter bleeding on an Altar.
Exit. Agamemnon.
Ul [...]s.
[Page 10]I' [...]e done my Task: Nature and Love give way,
The Gods and Honour bear the Sovereign Sway.
The end of the First Act.
ACT II.
[...]nter Eriphile, weeping, D [...]ris.
Eriph.
DOris, Let us retire: And whilst within
Th [...]y [...]eel the Raptures of their mutual Love,
Both in a Father, and a Husband's Arms,
Here let me vent my unrelenting Grief.
Dor.
Why, Madam, will you thus provoke your Sorrows?
And waste those Beauties with incessant Tears?
'Tis true, nothing seems Charming to a Prisoner,
Captivity turns all to Bitterness;
Yet, shall I tell it? When we c [...]ost the Seas
With proud Achilles, when yet a trembling Captive,
You view'd your Conque [...]our, me thought your Eyes
We [...]e less employ'd about your Miseries.
Now Fortune seems to smile, since Iphigenia
Like a fond Sister sooths your Cares with Friendship,
And gives those Comforts you had found in Troy.
You long'd to come to Aulis, and your Wishes
A [...]e all accomplish'd, yet your Grief redoubles.
Eriph.
What! Dost thou think that sad Eriphile,
Can be a calm Spectator of their Joys?
Canst thou believe my Griefs will disappear,
When I behold a Heaven I cannot reach?
Blest Iphigenia hugs the dearest Father,
She is the Pride of a fond haughty Mother,
Whist from my Infancy expos'd to Dangers,
My unknown Parents never Smil'd on me.
I am a Stranger to my very sel [...];
And to compleat my Woes, the Oracle
Bid me continue in my Ignorance;
For when I ask to whom I owe my Birth,
'Tis answer'd, in this Knowledge lies my Loss.
Dor.
[Page 11]But why should this de [...]er you from your Search?
All Oracles lie hid in dubious Riddles,
Who knows but by the losing a false Name
You'll find your own: This, sure, must be the Loss
The Oracle foretells, for in your Cradle,
Your Name was chang'd—
Eriph.
Of all the Circumstances of my Fate,
This is the only one I e'er could learn,
From thy unhappy Father, who knew all.
Indeed he us'd to tell me, that in Troy,
I should retrieve my Glory, my true Name,
And find my Royal Parentage— But oh!
I had within my view the wish'd [...]or [...] City,
When fierce Achilles led his Conquering Host,
'Gainst Lesbos, and made all yield to his Sword;
Thy Father buried in a heap of Dead,
Left me a Captive to my self unknown:
And of all those great [...]onours I expected,
Vile Prisoner of Greece, I only keep
The Pride of a High Birth I cannot prove.
Dor.
How great's the Loss of such a Faithful Witness!
How much you ought to hate the Barbarous Hand
That gave the fatal Blow! Yet renown'd Calchas,
Who holds a Correspondence with the Gods,
And know's what's past, what's present, what's to come,
Calchas may, sure, acquaint you with your Fate.
Besides, this Camp affords you safe Protection:
Kind Iphigenia will soon be joyn'd,
In happy Marriage to our Conquerour,
And make our Chains the lighter; doubt it not,
She has engag'd her Promise—
Eriph.
What! If of all my Woes [...]
This fatal Marriage were the cruellest?
Dor.
How! Madam?
Eriph.
Be not surpriz'd my Grie [...]s admit no Cure,
But rather wonder I have liv'd so long,
With such a load of Cares and Misery.
I am unknown, a Stranger, and a Captive:
All these were little—But, oh! I'm a Lover.
That fierce Destroyer of the Lesbian State;
That fatal Author of our dir [...] Misfortunes,
Who with Hands drench'd in Blood made me his Captive,
And with thy Father robb'd me of my Birth,
Achilles is the dearest Man I view.
Dor.
Heaven! What do I hear?
Eriph.
[Page 12]I [...]irst design'd
Eternal Silence should conceal my Weakness:
But I must speak to ease my Soul opprest,
And in thy friendly Bosom vent a Secret,
Which ought for ever, ever be forgotten.
Yet, Doris, ask me not with what fond Hopes,
I entertain'd this Passion in my Breast?
I will not charge it on that kind Concern,
With which Achilles seem'd to sooth my Woes.
No, no; 'tis unrelenting Heaven's Dec [...]ee,
[...]till to pursue me with immortal Hatred.
And [...]rush my tender Heart with Cares of Love.
Dor.
Oh! cruel hopel [...]ss Love!
[...]rith.
Shall I call back to my distracted Mind,
The sad Remembrance o [...] that dismal Day,
When fi [...]st we lost our Liberty?
[...]echless and Trembling for a while I lay,
Buried in gloomy Night; at last my feeble Eyes,
Began to seek the Light, and as I saw
The pressing Hand of my [...]ierce Conquerour
R [...]king with Blood, I [...]ear'd to meet his Looks.
As I embark't with him, I still endeavour'd,
To shun the dreadful and detested Sight;
B [...], oh! I saw him; saw him with a Blush;
Nay, which is more, I saw him with concern.
His Aspect was Serene, and my Reproaches
Could find no Tongue to Curse the pleasing [...]oe;
My Heart rebell'd against my Miseries,
And all my Anger melted into Tears.
I follow'd with Delight my Charming Guide,
And as I lov'd him then, I love him still.
Kind Iphigenia offers me Protection,
But all in vain, since my tormenting Furies
Bid me lay hold of my Protectress's Hand,
Only to crush a Rival, and unseen
Disturb those Joys which cause my Sufferings.
Dor.
Alas! What can your feeble Hate pe [...]form
Had it not been much better t'have remain'd
S [...]ill Prisoner at Mycene; there to quench
Yo [...]r fatal Fires, and shun the cruel Woes
Of unregarded Love—
Eriph.
'Twas my Design; but tho' my Rivals Triumph
Threatned my new-born Love with endless Torments,
Yet driv'n by Fate I came: A secret Voice,
Bid me attend my Guardian—
[Page 13]Presaging that I might leave on this Shore,
All my Mis [...]ortunes, and like a Lib [...]tion,
Pour them upon the [...]eads of these bl [...]st Lovers.
This is the Reason I appear in Aulis,
And not a fond Desire to know my Bi [...]th.
Or rather I am come to let their Nupti [...]ls
Pronounce my final Doom; for if accomplish'd,
A speedy Death will end my Miseries;
And without wasting time in fruitless Search,
After my unknown Parentage, the Grave
Will hide my Love and Shame—
Dor.
How much I do lament your cruel Fate [...]
Enter to them Agamemnon, Iphigenia.
Iphig.
My Lord, What makes you thus Fly [...]om my Sight;
And [...]hun the Clasping of a Daughter's Arms?
My duti [...]ul Respect made me fo [...]bear,
Till the transported Queen had first exprest
Her joys in your Emb [...]ace, Must Iphigenia,
Retire without a Blessing, and a Kiss?
May'nt I?—
Agam.
Yes— you may embrace a Father,
Embraces her.
Who loves you still —
Iphig.
How dear I value such a Father's Love [...]
What pleasing Raptures do I feel, to see
Th'Excess of Power and Honour that surrounds you?
Fame's busie Tongue had entertain'd my Ears,
With wond'rous Tales of your supreme Command;
But all comes short of what I now behold;
My Joys and my Surprize at once redouble:
You have the general Love of all the Grecians,
And am I then belov'd by such a Father?
Agam.
Alas! A Father to so good a Daughter,
Deserv'd to be more Fo [...]tunate—
Iphig.
Is there a greater Fortune can attend a King?
I thought you reach'd the Top of humane Bliss,
And that the Bounteous Gods could give no more.
Agam.
Just Heaven! Must I prepare her to her Fate?
Aside.
Iphig.
You Sigh my Lord, and seem to cast your Looks,
Unwillingly upon me; Pray, dear Sir,
Is it against your Orders we are come?
Agam.
Daughter, I see you with a Father's Eye;
But at this Time and Place, perplexing Care
Disturb my Joys —
Iph [...]g.
[Page]How sad are the effects of tedious Absence!
Alas [...] can't you forget your high Degree,
And le [...]n to be a Father for a moment?
Here is no Witness that can make you Blush;
You s [...]e before you, none but a young Princess,
To whom I often told how blest I was
With the most Tender and I [...]dulgent Father,
Who would at my Request end her Misfortunes.
What will she think o [...] your Indifference?
Must all her Hopes be vain? Pray, gentle Father,
Dispel those Clouds that hover on your Brow.
Agam.
Alas! My Daughter —
Iphig.
My Lord, Go on.
Agam.
Oh! I cannot—
Ip [...]ig.
[...]urst be th'adulterous Tro [...]an,
The [...]atal Author [...]f our di [...]e Al [...]ns!
Agam.
[...]is Ru [...]n must b [...] bought with Flouds of Tears.
Iphig.
I hope propitious Heaven will Protect your Head.
Agam.
The Gods of late seem d [...]l to all my Prayers.
Iphig.
Calchas, they say, prep [...]e [...] a Sac [...]ifice.
Agam.
May Heaven be appeas'd before 'tis Offer'd!
Iphig.
Pray, when is that to be?
Agam.
Too soon, Alas!
Iphig.
Shall I be suffer'd
To joyn my Vows with yours before the Altar?
Agam.
Oh! me!
Iphig.
My Lord; you're silent—
Agam.
No— Yes— You will be there, My Daughter—
[...]arewell—
Exit Agamemnon.
Iphig.
His cold Reception fills my Mind with Doubts.
A secret Horror seizes all my [...]i [...]bs:
[...]ear—But know n [...]t w [...]t, May Heaven avert
Th'impending Wo [...]s— Yet, whom they seem to threaten.
The Go [...] alone can tell—
Eriph.
Madam, I wonder that amidst those Cares,
Which now employ your Father, a small Coldness
Can discompose y [...]r Mind? Al [...]! How anxious
My Tho [...]ghts must be?
Where'er I s [...]t my Steps I am a Stranger;
Lost an [...] [...]an [...]on'd [...]om my [...]ry Cradle,
My unk [...]n Parents n [...]v [...]r cast upon me
A fl [...]tt [...]ng [...]mile; You, if a cro [...]s Father
R [...]j [...]ct y [...] datio [...]s L [...]ve, may yet complain
To a [...] Moth [...]; my, i [...] b [...]th should prove,
Un [...]nd, a Lover [...] dry [...]p your Tears.
Iphig.
[Page 15]Yes, dear Eriphile, I own my Tears
Will soon be d [...]y'd at my Achilles's view:
His worth, my Father, my Heart bid me Love him.
Y [...]t, What must I believe of this [...]ond Lover?
Who se [...]m'd to [...]urn with longing expect [...]tion
To meet me here? What keeps him f [...]om my Sight?
I have, for these two Days, upon our Jou [...]ney,
[...]ought him with trembling Looks; b [...]t all in vai [...].
At last I'm welcom'd by an unknown Crowd,
And s [...]ill he keeps away: Sad Agamemnon
[...]em [...] shy to name him to me. Where is he?
I [...]m full [...]f Doub [...]s and Fears—, What! Have the Cares of War,
Chill'd both a Father and a Lover's Heart?
But, no —, I wrong him by unjust Alarm [...]:
For he alone did ne're engage his Promise
To H [...]ll [...]n's Father: 'Tis on my Account
He [...]lies to Troy; I am the only Prize
His gene [...]ous Love expects to Crown his Valour.
Enter Clyt [...]mnestra, with a Letter in her Hand.
Clyt.
Daughter, we must be gone, and by a speedy Flight
Prevent our Shame; 'tis now no more a Riddle,
What made your Father troubled and uneasy
To see us here: This Letter clears all Doubts;
By faithful Areas he had sent it to me,
To spare u [...] the Affront of a Denial.
But wandring from our Way, that Messenger
Could not convey it sooner—.
He w [...]ites, Achilles having chang'd his Mind,
Defers the Nuptial Rites till his Return.
Eriphil.
What do I hear!
Clyt.
You blush, and seem concern'd at the Abuse—;
But let your Spirit arm you with Disdain.
To Iphigenia.
Ungrateful Wretch! Deceiv'd by his Renown,
I did at Argos countenance his Love,
And thought a Goddess's Son would make you Happy.
But since his vile Inconstancy belies
His noble Offspring from th'unchanging Gods,
Let's now despise the basest of Mankind,
And fly this hated Shore; lest he should think,
We stay to court his dull Indifference.
Your Father is acquainted with my Purpose,
I only wait him here to take my leave.
In the mean time I'll see all Things prepar'd
[Page 16]For our departure—. As for you, Madam,
To E [...]i [...]hile.
You'd think it hard to follow; our Retreat
Leaves you in better Hands; too well we know,
That 'tis not Chalchas that you came to see.
Exit, Clytemnestra, in a Fury.
Iphig.
In what amaze of Trouble has she left me,
By her perplexing Speech! Achilles having
Chang'd his Mind,
D [...]e [...]s the Nuptial Rites till he Returns;
I must prevent my Shame by hasty Flight;
And 'tis not Calchas that you came to see.
To Eriphi [...]e.
Eriph.
The meaning of her Speech is a dark Riddle,
I cannot apprehend—.
Iphig.
Nay, Madam, too, too well,
You know its meaning—, yet, if barbarous Fate
In an Ironical Tone.
Ro [...]s me of a Hu [...]band, su [...]e, you'll be more kind
Than to abandon me in my Misfortunes.
' [...]had been a Torment for you to have staid
At Mycene without me—, Shall the Queen
Now leave you [...]ere alone?
Eriph
Madam, I design'd
To consult Calchas—.
Iphig.
Then what's the Reason you don't haste to see him?
Erip.
You speak of being gone within a Moment.
Iphig.
Sometimes one Moment may clear many Doubts:
But, Madam, I'm too pressing: And now plainly see.
What I could ne're have thought— Yes, 'tis Achilles
Who makes you so uneasie till w'are gone.
Eriph.
Can you suspect me of such Treachery?
I! Madam, Love a furious Conqueror,
Whose bloody Image haunts my fearful Mind,
E're since with Fire and Sword he spread Destruction,
Through all the Lesbian State?—
I [...]hig.
Yes, Traytress, Yes, you love the fierce Destroyer:
And [...]l those Horrors with which you describe him,
His [...]nds embru'd with Blood, his ree [...]ing Sword,
And flaming Lesbos are the Characters,
Which left his pleasing Image printed in your Soul.
This, I remember, this made you so [...]ond,
Still to repeat to me the doleful Story
Of your Captivity— I might have seen
Your eager Passion through your feign'd Complaints.
But my fond Friendship banish'd all Distrust,
I hug'd and cherish'd a pe [...]idious Rival;
Credulous Fool [...] I lov [...]d her: Nay, I offer'd
[Page 17]The safe protection of her perjur'd Lover.
The Robbing me of him, I could forgive,
But to be brought to this detested Shore,
To meet th'ungrateful Man who now forsakes me,
And grace the Triumph of a treacherous Friend,
This, this is an Abuse I cannot bear.
Eriph.
Madam, you give me Words I ne're was us'd
To hear before —; And tho' hard Fate pursues me
With cruel Hate, yet such harsh sounds till now,
Were Strangers to my Ears; But I excuse
Th'unjust Reproaches of an incens'd Lover.
Which way could I prevent your Journey hither [...]
Can you suspect Achilles will prefer
A forlorn Maid to Agamemnon's Daughter?
One, who all she can learn of her Condition,
Is, that she is the Offspring of that Blood
He longs to spill —.
Iphig.
The barbarous Wretch insults o're my Misfortunes!
And still compares her vileness to my Glory,
Only to heighten her perfidious Triumph.
Was this then wanting to my load of Woe?
But have a care your Raptures be'nt too rash:
That Agamemnon you have dar'd, commands
All Greece; He is my Father; nay, he loves me,
And feels my Sufferings deeply as my self.
My Tears did melt him: I perceiv'd those Sighs
He strove to hide from me; Fond Fool! I blam'd
That Coldness which his Tenderness had caus'd.
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
Is't possible then, Madam! Do I see you?
Or is it fond Delusion? No! For the whole Camp,
Assur'd me you was here —, But, Madam, What concern
Has brought you to this Shore, since Agamemnon,
Give out Mycene would enjoy you still?
Iphig.
My Lord, [...]ear not my hated Presence here,
For Iphigenia will soon be gone.
Exit Iphigenia with a disdainful Air.
Achil.
She shuns me! Do I wake? Or is't a Dream?
Gods! [...]ow I am distracted at this Flight!
What sh [...]ll I do? — Madam, can I presume
To E [...]iphil [...].
To meet your Looks, and not provoke your [...]atred?
Yet, if Achilles did e're pity you:
If you can now receive your Conquerours Prayer,
In [...]orm m [...] why they're come —, sure, you can tell.
Eriph.
My Lord, I wonder
You should be unacquainted with their Journey;
[Page 18]Since you have been a Month upon this Shore,
Still pres [...]ing their A [...]rival [...] and your Nuptials.
Achill.
I Madam? I was Absent this whole Month,
And only came last Night—.
E [...]ipil.
[...]ow, When Agamemnon did write to Mycene,
[...]d not your Love Indite and Guide his Hand?
I tho [...]ght you was transported with the Charms
O [...] [...]is bright Daughter—.
Achil.
Y [...]s: I still adore her.
N [...]y, i [...] I had cons [...]l [...]ed b [...]t my Love,
[...] have [...] to see her at Mycene.
Y [...]t, I [...] [...]nn'd; but [...]or what [...]ime I know not.
[...] I cast my Loo [...]s I meet a Foe:
An [...] [...] this M [...]ment Calchas and U [...]sses
Dis [...]l [...]'d their Eloquence t'oppose my Love,
And s [...]m'd to intimate it shock'd my Honour.
What can their Counsels mean? Am I abus' [...]?
And made a Tale to entertain the Army [...]
[...] in—, And wrench the Secret from their Souls.
Exit. Achilles.
Eriph.
Ye Gods! Who see my Shame, Wher [...] shall I hide it?
Proud Rival, thou art lov'd, and yet thou murmur'st.
Must I at once behold thy haughty Triumph,
And bear with thy Insults? No—, Let me rather—:
But, Doris, I'm deceiv'd, or some great Storm,
Is gathering thick to break upon their Heads.
I've Eyes: — Their Happiness is not yet setl'd.
King Agamemnon Sighs, and is in Trouble:
He shuns his Daughter: Both avoid Achilles.
There's something in it; I'll not yet Despair:
And if Fate listens to my Hatred's Call,
[...]l die, but crush a Rival with my Fall.
Exeunt Eriphil [...], Doris
The end of the Second Act.
ACT III. SCENE 1.
Enter Agamemnon, Clytemnestra.
Clyt.
YES, my Lord,
My Indignation made me leave the Camp,
And [...]ly Achilles view: Scorn'd Iphigenia
Design'd Mycene should lament her Woe.
But [...]at young Hero wondring at our Flight,
[Page 19]Call'd all the Gods to prove his Constancy,
And stopt our Journey. Nay, he pres [...]es now
That Marriage, which before, 'twas said, he shunn'd [...]
[...]e seeks you full of Passion and of Love:
Fu [...]ious to know who rais'd this false Report,
And punish his audacious Insolence.
Therefore let no Suspicions pall our Joys.
Agam.
Madam, 'tis well: Achilles must be trusted:
I own we wrong'd him: And I share your Joys,
As much, as least, as my concern allows.
Now since you wish that Cal [...]has should perform
The Nuptial Sac [...]ifice, 'tis [...]it you send
Your Daughter to the Altar: I'll there wait her coming.
Yet first in private let me here advise you:
You see what place you're in, how every thing
Seems [...]itter for a Fight, than for a Marriage;
The Tumult of an Army, and a Fleet:
An Altar bri [...]tling with Pikes, Darts and Spears,
Such hor [...]id Pomp may sute with fierce Achilles,
But is not calm enough to court your Sight,
It were unseemly that the Greeks should see,
Their Que [...]n bereft of aw [...]ul Majesty,
And undistinguish'd in a Crowd of Soldie [...]s.
Believe me, let your Maids alone attend
Your Daughter to the Altar—.
Clyt.
I, Sir, resign my Daughter to my Wom [...]n [...]
And not accomplish what I have begun?
Have I then brought her hither from Mycene,
And shall I now refuse to lend my Hand
To lead her to the Priest? — Is not this a Duty
Incumbent on a Mother? — Who shall order
The Marriage Festival? — [...]
Agam.
Madam, That might have been your Care
In Atreus's Palace: Now you're in a Camp.
Clyt.
Yes, I am in a Camp,
Where the whole [...]ate of Troy depends on you;
Where all the Grecians bow to your Command;
Where Thetis's Son will this Day call me Mother;
Pray, in what Palace could I e're appear
With greater Splendor and Magnificence?
Agam.
Madam,
By all th'immortal Authors of our Race,
I do conjure you, grant me this Request:
I have my Reasons.
Cl [...].
My Lo [...]d,
By all those Pow'rs you nam'd, let me intreat you
[Page 20]Not to deny my Eyes that bliss [...]ul shew.
Vouchsafe to see me there without a Blush.
Agam.
I thought much better of a Wi [...]e's Compliance,
[...] my Arg [...]ments, and my Intreaties
C [...] ha [...]e no force to bend your s [...]ubborn Mind,
Madam— it is my Pleasure— I command you—
O [...]ey—
Exit Agamemnon.
Clyt.
Ye Gods above! What makes my Husband use
Such [...]arbarous C [...]re to keep me from the A [...]tar.
I [...] he so [...]levated with his Power,
That he disdains to own me for his Wife?
O [...] is his new Command yet so unsettled
That he dares not appear with Hellens Sister?
B [...]t why that Nicety? Yet, since 'tis his Command
I willingly submit; my Daughter's Bliss
Makes me amends [...]or all; th'indulg [...]nt Gods
U [...]ite her to Achilles, and my Joys
A [...]e Infinite to think she shall be call'd—
[...]ut he [...]e he comes himsel [...]—
Enter Achilles.
Achil.
M [...]dam, all things succeed to Crown my Wishes:
The King desires no further Satisfaction,
But tru [...]s the Raptures o [...] my eager Love.
[...] [...]carce began to clear my Innocence,
When with a kind Embrace he call'd me Son.
[...]is Words were [...]ew: But, Madam has he told you
What happy News was spread at your Arrival?
Clyt.
What's that, my Lord?
Achil.
The Gods will be appeas'd: The Priest proclaims
That the next Hour by solemn Sacrifice,
Neptune will be propitious to our Vows,
And wake the drowsie VVinds; sure of his Promise
The joyful Mariners un [...]url their Sails,
And turn their Prows to Troy. As for me, Madam,
Tho' I were glad if to indulge my Love
The VVinds should still be silent for a whil [...]:
Tho' with regret I quit the happy Shore,
VVhere Iphigenia will soon be mine,
Yet with delight I grasp the blest Occasion,
To Seal this noble Match with Trojan Blood;
Bury the Shame o [...] that respected Name,
To which mine will for ever be allied.
Enter Iphigenia, Eriphile, Aegina, Do [...]is.
Fair Princess, all my Blis [...] depends on you:
Your Father waits our coming to the Altar;
To Iphigenia.
Haste Madam, to receive the plighted [...]ai [...]h
O [...] your Adorer—
Ip [...]ig.
My Lord, be [...]ore we go,
I hope the Queen will suffer me to ask you
A Boon to prove your Love: Here's a young Princess
VVhose noble Aspect speaks her high D [...]scent:
Her Eyes continually dissolves in Tears,
You know her Troubles, for 'tis you have caus'd them.
And I just now transported with rash Passion,
Rudely insulted over her Affliction.
I would atone for my too-h [...]sty C [...]rriage,
And sooth her into Ease, but how I know not,
Unless it be by interceeding [...]or her.
My Lord, she is your Captive, and those Chains,
Whose weight I pity, will at your Command
Fall from her Hands: Let then your generous Deeds
Begin this happy and auspicious Day.
Let sad Eriphile be now discharg'd
From our Attendance— Let all the Grecians see,
That the great King to whom I plight my Faith,
Is not contented to spread dire Alarms,
And wild Destruction th [...]ough th'affrighted World,
But that he can relent at a Wifes Tears,
And like the Gods from whom he is Descended,
Will be disarm'd by the Unfortunate.
Eriph.
Yes, my Lord, you may alleviate
The quickest Pain a Woman ever felt.
'Tis true the Fate o [...] War made me your Captive;
But still you strain too high its rigid Laws,
Thus to o're-bear my Heart with all the Torments
I suffer here.
Achil.
You, Madam?
Eriph.
Yes, my Lord, and waving all the rest,
Could you impose a more severe Commnd,
Than here to make my Eyes the sad Spectators,
Of the Prosperity of all my Foes:
My Proud, my Haughty, Persecuting Foes.
Where'er I go, I hear th'insulting Threats
Of a [...]ierce Army, ready to destroy
My native Countrry: And to break my Heart,
[Page 22]I see, I see that fatal Hymens Brand,
Which will devour it, and consume my Hopes.
The [...]efore permit me to retire from hence:
And wand [...]ing f [...]om your Sight, and still unknown,
[...]wail the [...]ardships of that dismal Fate,
Weeps.
Which nothing but my Tears can well express.
Achil.
Fair Princess, that's too much: Wipe of those Tears,
You have yo [...]r Wishes; [...]ollow to the Altar,
That all the Gre [...]ks may witness you a [...]e Free;
And may [...]h [...] Hour that gives you Liberty,
Make me f [...]r ever Blest.
Enter Arcas. To Cl [...]tem.
Arc.
M [...]dam, all things are ready for the Sacrifice;
The King w [...]its at the Altar for your Daughter,
And sends me to D [...]mand her— Or rather,
Sir, I come
To Achilles.
To beg your h [...]lp a [...]ai [...]st him.
A [...]hil.
What [...]ay [...]ou [...] [...]rcas?
Cl [...]t.
Y [...] Go [...] What [...]ws is this?
Arc.
You [...], my [...]o [...]d,
To Achilles.
Can now [...]o [...]ct he [...].
C [...]hil.
Agai [...]st whom?
Arc.
My Lo [...]d 'tis wi [...]h regret I name him—
But I can keep no longer the black Secret,
And to be silent would be Treachery.
The Kni [...]e, the Fillet, the Pile, all is ready;
But were that fatal Pomp design'd to take
My Life for the Discovery— yet I must speak.
Clyt.
Heaven! How I tremble! Quickly; Arcas,
Explain your meaning—
Achil.
Whoe'er it be, speak boldly, fear him not.
Arc.
My Lord, you a [...]e her Lover; and you, Madam,
Her tender Mother; suffer not the Princess
To meet her Father—
Clyt.
What should we fear from him?
Achil.
Why should we distrust him?
Arc.
He waits her at the Altar, with intent
To Sacrifice her—
Achil.
He! Agamemnon!
Clyt.
His Daughter!
Iphig.
My Father!
Eriph.
Oh Heavens! What News!
Achil.
Gods! What blind Fury
Can Arm his cruel Hand against his Daughter?
'Tis Impious but to think on't.
Arc.
Alas! my Lord, there is no room for Doubt:
The Oracle and Calch [...]s have prono [...]nc'd
[Page 23]The [...]atal Doom, and stubbornly reject
All other Sacri [...]ice: The Gods themselves
Protect the Rav [...]sher, and bid the Winds
Lie husht till that be o [...]fer'd.
Clyt.
How can the Gods dec [...]ee so black a Deed?
Iphig.
Heaven! VVhat's my Crime, that m [...]rits such hard [...]ate?
Clyt.
Now 'tis too plain
VVhy he imp [...]s [...]d [...]n me such s [...]ict Command [...],
To keep me [...]rom the Altar.
Iphig.
Is this the Mar [...]iage was design'd [...]or me?
so A [...]hilles.
Arc.
The King [...]o blind you, did suppose [...]his M [...]rriage [...]
And [...]he whole Camp is still in the same Error.
Clyt.
My Lord,
Kneels.
Here let me grasp your Knees—
Achil.
Al [...]s! Madam—
Raising her.
Pray rise—
Cl [...]t.
My Lord, l [...]t me forget my troublesome State:
This low Submi [...]sion suits my cruel Fortune;
I were too happy if my Tears could touch,
Weeps.
Your [...]eart with Pity—Alass! 'Tis your Bride
They snatch away from you. I brought her up
To the fond [...]opes of this auspicious Match.
'Tis you we sought on this detested Shore;
And 'tis you [...] Name betrays her to her Fate.
Must she then go t'implore the Angry Gods,
And grasp that Altar dismally Adorn'd,
To Sacrifice her? You alone are here
Her Father, Husband and protecting God.
I read your Grief in your distracted Looks.
Daughter, I leave you in a Lovers Arms.
My Lord, I beg you, stay till I return.
I fly to meet my cruel, treacherous Husband,
And with just Rage oppose his wild Design.
I'll force the Priest to seek another Victim;
Or should my best Efforts prove vain, to ward
The fatal Blow, I'll die with my dear Daughter.
Exit Clytemnestra.
Achil.
Madam, all this while
My wonder kept me Dumb and Motionless.
Was it to me she spoke? Am I Achilles?
And must your Mother and a Queen disgrace
My noble Passion, to descend thus low
VVith unbecoming Posture, Prayers and Tears
To move my Pity? VVho is more concern'd
Than Thetis's Son in your Prosperity?
Yes; you may trust my Love, th'affront is levell'd
I answer [...]r a Li [...]e on which my own depends.
B [...]t my [...]st Anger do [...]s engage me fu [...]ther:
'Twe [...]e [...]i [...]tle to protect, I will revenge you,
An [...] pu [...]h all at once th'ignoble Cheat,
[...] my Name [...]or your undoing.
[...]pig [...].
[...]ray, My Lord, slay — Hear me —
Ac [...]il.
God [...], must a Ba [...]barian
Af [...]ront me t [...]us [...] Whilst to [...]evenge his Sister,
I fly [...]o T [...]; whilst by my leading Vote,
[...]e holds [...]ommand o're twenty Rival Kings;
Whilst for m [...] Se [...]vi [...]s, and Wa [...]like Toils:
Whilst fo [...] the P [...]ice of that great Victory,
[...] will [...] him, Vindicate his Wrongs,
And Crown [...] Name for ever with Renown;
I am content [...]d with the glo [...]ious Title
O [...] b [...]ng you [...]s; the bloody Perjur'd Man
Thinks little to despise the sacred Laws
Of Love and Natu [...], and to rack my Soul
With the sad view, of your dear, Virgin Heart
Reekin [...] upon an Altar, his black Deed
Must still [...]e cove [...]'d by a Marriage Pomp;
'Tis I must lead you to the Sacri [...]ice;
My credulous Hand must guide the fatal Kni [...]e;
An [...] in the place of [...]usband, I must prove
Your E [...]cutioner— Gods [...] I grow Mad to think on't.
Iphig.
My Lord, l [...]t not your Passion thus transport you.
Achil.
Just Heaven! What had be [...]ome of all my [...]opes,
Had not my coming forestall'd your Ar [...]ival?
The harmless Bride aban [...]on' [...] to their Fury,
[...]ad vainly sought her abs [...]nt Love, and met
A B [...]cher Priest: Still charging on my Name
Th [...] [...]loody, [...]a [...]barous Cheat. Such Treac [...]ery
I wi [...]l expos [...] l [...]te be [...]ore al [...] Gree [...]e
M [...]am, your [...]onour is concern'd in mine.
And th [...]e [...]o [...]e you'll approve my just Revenge
T [...] c [...]uel Man shall [...]now Achill [...]s [...]s W [...]ongs
[...]e [...]e went unpunish'd—.
[...].
My Lord, if ever you did truly Love me,
L [...] now my Pray [...]rs and Tea [...]s disa [...]m y [...]u [...] Ang [...].
Co [...]si [...]e [...] that Ba [...]ba [...]i [...]n whom you da [...].
That c [...]uel, [...], t [...]ea [...]h [...]ous En [...]my,
[...] still my Fa [...]e [...]— [...]
Achil.
[Page 25]Your Father, Madam? No— [...]i [...] bl [...]k Desi [...]n
Leaves him no other than a Mu [...]he [...]er's Name
Iphig.
My Lo [...]d, I s [...]ill [...]ep [...]at it, H [...]'s my [...]
A Father whom I lo [...]e, whom I [...]eve [...]e;
A Father who till now h [...]s cherish'd me,
With all Indulgen [...]e and Paternal Care.
My Heart brought up e [...]en [...]om my Infancy,
To dutiful Re [...]pect, is sad when he's offended.
'Tis not our Nuptial tie can make me lose,
My Duty, and allow your furious, Passion.
Yet, see, my Lord, how very much I love you [...]
Since I could bear to hear th' outragious injury,
You offerr'd to his Name. But how can you
Think him so barbarous that unconcern'd
He'd see his Daughter bleed, if any way
He could prevent the cruel Sacrifice.
Believe me, Sir, I saw him sigh and weep.
Do not condemn him till you hear him speak [...]
Must his Heart, fill'd with Hor [...]ors, still encounte [...]
Your raging Hatred? —
Achil.
Is't possible, Madam
Amidst your Danger is this all you [...]ear?
A wild Barbarian (for this Name befits him)
Betrays you to the Priest like a tame Victim,
And when my Tenderness would stop his Fury,
You seem concern'd to trouble h [...]s Repose;
I'm silenc'd he's excus'd, he is lamented;
For him you tremble, and 'tis me you fe [...]r.
Has then Achilles sued and sigh'd in vain?
Is this the Progress of my constant Love?
Iphig.
Oh! Cruel Man! How can you doubt that [...]ove,
Of which I gave you such convincing Proofs?
You saw how with dry Eyes, and undisturb [...]d,
I heard the bloody Messenger of Death;
But, all ye Powers of Love! How deep was my Despair,
When at our first Arrival the false News,
O [...] your inconstancy c [...]me to my Ears?
My just concern made me accuse the God's [...]
Reproa [...]h your Falshood, and cu [...]se all Ma [...]ind.
Then, t [...]en you might [...]ve seen, how much [...]
Your Love be [...]ore my [...]i [...]e—Ala [...]! I thought
My gene [...]ous Flames had rais'd m [...] [...] all Mo [...]l [...]
Perhaps the envious G [...]d [...] have been prov [...]'d,
By the Exc [...] o [...] my [...]licity.
[Page 26] [...]
ACT IV. SCENE I.
Enter Eriphile, Doris, they sit on a g [...]ee [...] Bank near [...] Sea-Shore.
A SONG Set by Mr. PVRCEL, and Sung by Mrs. ERWIN.
I.
MORPHEUS, thou gentle God of [...] Repose,
Th' unruly Tumults of my Mind compose;
Allay the Fury of my anxious Care,
Drive hence black Thoughts, and chase away [...]
Here let indulgent Fancy sooth my Pain,
Here let me sleep, and never wake again,
II.
What's this I feel? What this within my Breast,
Strikes such alarms, and will not let me rest?
'Tis Iealousy, tormenting Iealousy!
The Bane of Love, tormenting Iealousy
III.
I rage, I rave, I burn, my Soul's o' [...]re:
Tortur'd with wild dispair [...] and [...]
My Strephon's [...], I cannot, [...]
[...] be r [...]veng'd [...] and m [...]re than [...]
D [...]ath, onl [...] D [...]h can now my [...],
I mu [...] my R [...], or [...].
DOP.
M [...]dam, w [...]t [...]
[...]
An [...] and [...]— [...]
[...]
[...] me [...]
[...]
[Page 28]Yes, Doris, ye [...]: My Heart perplex'd with Cares,
[...] with enviou [...] E [...]es my Rival [...]s Fate.
[...] her Dange [...]s. And how curst my Hopes [...]
Did [...]t th [...] not see her Triumph? How Achilles
Wa [...] t [...]o [...]b [...]ed and conce [...]n'd? I saw, I saw it;
And sh [...]nn [...] [...]he [...]igns of her undoubted Blis [...].
The v [...]li [...]nt, p [...]d, insul [...]ing, [...]ie [...]ce Achilles,
[...] to all humane kind;
Who [...] kn [...]w a Tear, but what he draws
[...] yes: Achilles, who [...]tis said,
Was [...]ckled by a Lioness or a Tigress;
Achilles [...] her now begins to tremble,
[...]ighs and [...] pale, and weeps, and yet thou pitiest
Here ble [...] [...]ondi [...]ion; Death it self were pleasing,
I [...] I could purch [...]se fierce Achilles's Tears.
Weep [...]
Dor.
Dea [...] Madam, moderate your Sorrows [...]
Or if you weep, let Iphigenia
Bespeak your Tears; she was our kind Protectress,
And in an hour she dies.—
Eri [...]h.
No, D [...]is, she'll not die—
Dost thou believe Achilles wept in vain?
Thinkest th [...] his Love and Courage will ly buried
In shame [...]ul Uncon [...]rn? No, he'll prevent
All her impending Dangers: Thou shalt find
The angry God's pronounc'd this Oracle
To raise her Glory, aggravate my Woes,
And make her still the deare [...] to her Lover.
Dor.
What Reasons, Madam, can breed this Suspicion?
Eriph.
Dost thou not see
How all endeavour to prevent the Blow?
The [...]atal Sentence is still kept a Secret;
And tho' all things be ready at the Altar,
The Camp is unacq [...]ainted with the Victim.
Does not [...]his silence speak a wavering Father?
What can he do? What Heart of [...]lint or steel
Could e [...]re resist th' Assa [...]lts he must encounter?
The R [...]ge and Fury of an incens'd Wife;
A [...] and Tears [...] the deep Despair
O [...] a wh [...]le Family; fond N [...]ture [...] s [...]uggles;
[...]ebill [...]'s th [...]eatning [...]. No, 'tis in vain
The God's p [...]onounc'd her Doom, for she shall live
I, I alone m [...]t be [...].
Oh [...] [...] —
Dor.
[Page 29]Madam, what do you mean?
[...]riph.
Why don [...]t I follow
The angry Dict [...]tes of my jealous Mind?
And publish to the Camp the fatal Senten [...]e,
The Oracle pronounc'd, and how by impious Silence
They strive to make it void, and save the Victim
The God's demand—
Dor.
Oh! What a wild Design!
Eriph.
Oh! What excess of Joy!
What Altars would the Trojans raise to me,
If vindicating my Captivity,
I sow'd Dissension through the Grecian Camp,
And arm'd Achilles against Agamemnon!
If I could make them lay aside their Quarrel
'Gainst Troy, and turn their Arms 'against themselves!
If my malicious Whispers could destroy
The Gr [...]cian Army, and secure my Country!
Dor.
Madam, I hear a noise—'Tis Clytemnestra:
Compose your s [...]lf, or else avoid her Presence.
E [...]iph,
Let's in: And to prevent this hated Marriage,
I'll use all means—The Gods allow my Passion.
Exeunt Eriphile, Doris.
Enter Clytemnestra, Aegina.
Clyt.
Thou seest, Aegina, I must [...]ly my Daughter [...]
So far she is from shedding any Tears,
Or trembling for her Life, that she excuses
Her cruel Father, and would have my Grief
Respect the Hand that strikes the cruel Blow.
Oh! Constancy! Oh! Reverence! Oh! Love [...]
Yet to reward all these, my Savage Husband
Complains of her Delay. I'll here expect him [...]
For, sure, he'll come t' expostulate with me
The reason of her stay. But he appears [...]
Be husht my Passion; let me try how far
He can dissemble his base Artifice.
Enter Agamemnon.
Agam.
Madam, what do you mean? How comes this [...]
Don't o [...]er [...]phig [...]nia to my sight?
I sent Arca [...] to demand her from you—
Where have y [...] left he [...] —
My j [...]st Request? And do y [...] still [...]
To [...]ollow to the Alta [...]?
Clyt.
My L [...]d, if she must [...],
My Daughter's ready: But does nothing stop you?
Agam.
Me! M [...]d [...]m?
Clyt.
But have you taken c [...]e of all?
Agam.
Calchas is ready; th' Altar is prepar'd.
I have done all my Duty bid me do.
Clyt.
My Lord, you tell me nothing of the Victim?
Agam.
Madam?
What means this jealous care?
Aside.
Enter Iphigenia.
Clyt.
Come, Daughter, Come; they only wait for you:
Be thankful to a kind, a loving Father,
Who will himself conduct you to the Altar.
Weep [...].
Agam.
What do I see! What means my Wive's discourse?
Daughter, you weep, and look with downcast Eyes:
What's this Dis [...]rder?
But b [...]th the Daughter and the Mother weep.
Oh! Arcas! I'm betray'd.—
Iphig.
Father, be not alarm'd: You're not not betray'd [...]
Comm [...]nd and I'll obey; my Life is Yours,
You may [...]et [...]ke it without Artifice.
With that contented and submissive Heart,
With which I did accept a promis'd Husband,
If I must needs submit to Heaven's Decree,
I'll prove an innocent Victim, and respect
The Blow you order; with all due obedience
I'll spill that Blood, I have receiv'd from you.
Agam.
Oh! dutiful Respect! Oh! wondrous Love!
Iphig.
Yet, i [...] this Reverence, this humble Love
Seem to deserve a better Recompense;
If you can pity a fond Mother's Grief,
My Lord [...] I dare to say, that as I am
S [...]nded with bright Honour, I could wish
A mi [...]d [...]r Fate, and that the bounteous God's
Would not cut off my Life so near its Spring.
'Tis I [...] c [...]l'd you by the Name of Father;
— [...]h [...] [...], endearing Name—
[...] th [...] N [...]me so o [...] you than [...]d the God [...]
[...] I mad [...] you [...] Delight; with me y [...]u learnt
[...] M [...]jesty, and not di [...]dain
Alas! With how mu [...]h e [...]gerness and Joy,
I lov'd to hear the Names of all those Countries
You went to Conquer? My p [...]esaging [...]opes
Began t' anti [...]ipate the wish [...]d-for News
O [...] Troy's Destruction, and p [...]epar'd a Feast
To g [...]ce your Triumph. Little did I think,
That to obtain your Victory, my Blood
Must [...]i [...]st [...]e spill'd by you.—
Agam.
Oh! She'll un [...]man me with her tender Words?
Ip [...]ig
Not that the horror of the threatning Blow
Makes me remind You of your form [...]r Kindness [...]
Fear not: My Heart still care [...]ul of your Fame,
Shall ne' [...]e expo [...]e my Father to a Blush.
And had my Life alone been my Concern,
My gra [...]eful Thoughts had been conceal'd for ever
Within my dutious Breast. But, Sir, you know
That on my wretched Fate a tender Mother,
And a [...]ond Lover fix'd their Happiness.
A King whose worth you own, look [...] on this Day
To light the Torch of our illustrious Hymen;
Sure of a Heart, you gave me leave to promise,
To his undoubted Love, he thought himself
The happiest of Mankind: — But since he knows
Your [...]atal p [...]rpose, judge of his Alarms
You see my Mother's woe, pardon, dea [...] Father,
My weak endeavours to p [...]event thei [...] Tears.
Weeps.
Agam.
Daughter, [...]is but too true: The angry God's
Demand a Victim, for what Crime, I know not:
But you are nam'd. A cruel Oracle
Commands that you shall bleed [...]—
To save your precious Life from [...]he black Doom,
My Love prevented your endearing P [...]ayers.
I wave to tell you how long I withstood:
Believe that Love which you just no [...] attested.
This very Night I did recal the O [...]der.
Which they before had wre [...]ed f [...]om my Hand.
I sacrifi [...]'d to you the cause of Greece,
My Ambition, my Safe [...]y, nay, [...]y Honou [...].
Arcas was sent to keep you from the C [...]mp.
But the Go [...]'s would not [...]uffe [...] he sh [...]ld [...]eer you;
They baf [...]led my E [...]for [...]s. Oh! W [...]e [...]ched Father,
Who vainly Strove to guard, what they [...]u [...]ue [...]
Tru [...] not to my unsettled feeble Power:
[...] [...]om th' unea [...]y [...]
By holy Zeal, and [...]
[...]aughter, your hour [...] yield.
But, even in Death, rega [...] [...] [...]ee;
And mind a Counsel which I [...] follow:
Since the sad Blow that st [...]ikes [...] Heart shall sink
Deeper in mine; yet, let your Constancy,
Approve your Birth, and make the God's asham'd
O [...] their black Sentence. Go—Let all the Grecians
Know by your Courage, 'tis my Blood they spill.
Cl [...]t.
No: Do you not bely your fatal Race:
'Tis plain you spring from Atreus and Thyestes.
Butcher to your own Daughter, to compleat
Your natural Cruelty, you only want
To entertain me with the gastly Feast
Of all her slaughter'd Limbs. Oh! Barbarian!
Is this th' auspicious Sacrifice your care
Prepar'd with so much Art and Secrecy?
How could your Hand subscribe the black Decree,
And not be stopt by th' horror of the Deed?
Agam.
Oh! Wretched Father!
Wheeps.
Clyt.
Force not before us a dissembling Woe;
Nor think your Tears can prove your Tenderness.
What Fights are those you fought in her Defence?
What Floods of Blood were spill'd to save her Life?
Where's the wild Havock that speaks your Resistance?
What Heaps of Slain can silence my Complaints?
These Savage Man, these are the Witnesses,
By which your Love should shew your just Concern,
For Iphigenia's Life.
Agam.
Madam, the God's must be obey'd:
A fatal Oracle pronounc'd her Doom.
Clyt.
Have not all Oracles a dubious meaning?
Are the just God's so pleas'd with murderous Deeds
That innocence must bleed? If Hellen's Crime
Must be a [...]on'd for in her Family,
[...]et then H [...]rmione be fetch'd from Sparta,
She's her own Daughter: Let fond Menelaus
With his own Blood redeem his guilty Wi [...]e.
But what blind Fury leads you to the Altar,
To expiate her Crime, and be his Victim?
Why must [...] [...]end and tear a Mother's Breast,
And pay hi [...] Fondness with my dearest Blood?
[Page 33]Nay, is this Author of so many Jars,
This great Disturber of [...]he East and West,
A worthy Prize to crown your warlike Toils?
How often have we blush'd at her Disgrace?
Before your Brother by a fatal Tie
Made her his Consort, had not Theseus dared
To s [...]eal her from her Father? Does not Calchas
Assure us that from their clandestine Mat [...]h
A P [...]incess sprung, who still is left unknown?
Agam.
Oh! Cruel Honour!
Un [...]o [...]tuna [...]e Alliance!
Clyt.
But, no: A Brother's Love, his injur'd Honour,
Are the least Cares that trouble your Repose.
Your Thirst of Empire, nothing can allay;
Your haughty Pride of having twenty Kings
Attend and fear You: The supreme Command
Lodg'd in your Person, these, Oh! Wild Barbarian,
The [...]e are the Gods to whom you Sacrifice;
And careless of the Blow, your Unconcern
Courts the Applause of the affrighted Greeks.
Too jealous of your fatal envied Power,
You're glad to purchase it with your own Blood:
And by so dear a Price deterr the Boldness
Of your Competitors.—Is this to be a Father?
Oh! I grow mad—This cruel Treachery
Hurries my Senses into wild Distraction.
A Priest, surrounded by a barbarous Crowd,
Shall lay his Murde [...]ing hand upon my Daughter;
Shall Tear her Bosom, and with cruel Eyes
Consult her panting Breast—
Whilest I who brought her to the Camp in Triumph,
Must return home, disconsolate and attended
With black Despair: I must behold the Way
Still fragrant with the Flowers strew'd on her P [...]ssage
No, no: It shan't be said I brought her here,
To be thus butcher'd, if with the same Blow
You offer not a double Sacrifice.
No Tears, No Duty shall e're part me from her [...]
Unless you tear [...]er from my Slaughter'd hands.
Barbarous Husband, no less barbarous Father,
Come, if you dare, and wrest her from her Mo [...]he [...]
Daughter, go in: At least this time for all
I'll be obey [...]d—
Exeunt Clytem [...]estra. [...]phig [...]nia [...] [...]
[Page 34]Agamemnon Solus.
These are the f [...]rious Clamou [...]s I expected:
These are the loud Complaints I fear'd to hear.
Yet, i [...] my wavering and distracted Mind,
Fear'd no [...]hing but their Cries, I'd not regard them.
Alas! Why did the Gods impose upon me
[...]o [...]igid a Command, yet, leave me still
A Fa [...]her's Heart?
E [...]r Achill [...]s.
[...]
My Lord, a strange Report has reach'd my E [...]rs
[...] bo [...]h our Sakes I wi [...]h it may be false,
[...] said, and with jus [...] horror I repeat it,
T [...]at [...]phig [...]nia by your Command
Expires this day; That having silenc'd Nature,
And all the Dicta [...]s of [...]um [...]nity,
With y [...]ur own hand you give her to the Priest;
That 'ti [...] my Name that b [...]ing [...] her to the Altar;
That you suppo [...]'d
These Nuptial [...] t [...] amuse us; and to make me
The shameful Inst [...]ument of this black Murder.
What say you to [...]t, My Lord? What must I think on't?
Agam.
My Lord,
I never give account of what I do:
My Daughter's unacquainted with my Will;
But when I think it proper to inform her,
You then may learn her Fate: I'll give the Camp
My Sovereign Orders.—
Ac [...]il.
Too well I know what cruel Fate attends her.
Agam.
Then why d' ye ask?
Achil.
Why I do ask? Ye Gods! Is't possible,
That he can dare t'avow so black a Deed?
Think you I will approve your wild Design?
Think you my plighted Faith, my Love, my Honour,
Will e're consent to let your Daughter bleed?
Agam.
But you, who dare to speak with threatning Voice,
Have you forgot who 'tis you ask such Questions?
Achil.
And have you, Sir,
[...]orgot who 'tis I Love? Whom you affront?
Agam.
Who bids you be concern'd about my Family?
Mayn't I dispose of Iphigenia
Unless you be consenting? Am I not
Her Father s [...]ill? Is She your Wife? Mayn't she—
Achil.
[Page 35]No—she's yours no more—
I'm not to be amus'd with frivolous Hopes:
You swore she should be mine; and there [...]ore, Sir,
As long as I have blood within my Veins,
I will maintain those Rights your Promise gave.
But, Sir, was't not for me she came to Aulis?
Agam.
Expostulate with the Gods, 'tis they demand her.
A [...]cuse the Priest, Ulysses, M [...]n [...]laus:
Accuse the Camp; nay, first accuse your Self.
[...]hil.
Me!
Agam.
Yes, you: Who greedy of the Eas [...]ern Conquest,
Quarrel each day with Neptune and the Winds.
You who offended at my just Alarms,
Have sp [...]ead your eager Fury through the Camp.
My tender Heart had [...]ound a way to save her:
But Troy is all you wish, all you demand.
I stopt the Race which you desi [...]'d to run,
Her Death will set it open; Go—depart.
Achil.
Hell-Furies! Can I hear and b [...]ar all thi [...]
Is't thus you aggravate your Perjury
With base Affronts? What! Did I e're desi [...]e
T' obtain a Wind with Iphigenia's Blood?
What great Concern makes me repair to Troy?
For whom do I neglect my Parent Goddess,
And my disconsolate Father's fond Advice?
Why do I court that Death the Oracle
Foretold their Son? What Wrongs are those I suff [...]r'd?
Was e're a Trojan Fle [...]t so bold to dare
Make a Desce [...]t on my Thessalian Sho [...]e?
Did e're a Ravisher come to Larissa,
To s [...]eal away my Sis [...]er or my Wise?
What loss have I sus [...]ain'd? I [...]'t not [...]or you,
Barbarian as you are, I [...]ly to Troy?
[...]or you, whom I inv [...]sted with Command
O're all the Grecian P [...]inces and my sel [...].
For you, whom I reveng'd in [...]laming Le [...]b [...]s,
Be [...]ore your gather'd Forces met in Aulis.
But what prevailing Motive call'd us hither?
Was it not to resto [...]e a [...]avish'd Wise
To Men [...]la [...]s? Then who can think I will
Be wanting to my s [...]lf, and tamely yi [...]ld
The Bride I Love. Tis tru [...] you [...] Bro [...]he [...] su [...]fe [...]'d
A base A [...]front; but then has he alone
A Right [...]o [...] W [...]ongs? I too will vindicate
[Page 36]My injured honour—I love your Daughter:
She only has my Vows: To her I promis'd
My Ships, my Soldiers, nothing to your Brother.
Let him pursue his Wife, and seek a Triumph
The God [...] have promis'd to my Blood alone.
What's Hellen, Paris, Priamus to me?
[...].
[...] the Prize [...]or which I [...]ll quit this Shore,
And [...]y to Troy.
A [...]am.
Then, [...]ly f [...]om hence: Return to Th [...]ssaly.
I [...] you from your solemn Vows.
Oth [...]rs wi [...]l come submissive to my Power,
To [...]e [...]p t [...]s [...] Laurels, which to you we [...]e promis'd [...]
And [...]cing Destiny by glorious Deeds,
Will gladly meet [...]heir Dea [...]h before the Walls
Of [...]uin'd Troy. I s [...] through your Contempt,
How dear I bought your haughty, proud Assistance [...]
By you [...] insulting Speech it seems you a [...]e
The Arbiter of Greece, and that I bear
An empty Tide. To your boast'd Valour
All must submit: All follow your Command.
A kindness when reproach'd becomes a Wrong:
I ask less Valour, but more Obedience.
Away—I cancel all our former Ties,
Regardless of your Friendship, or your Hatred.
Ac [...]il.
Thank that one Tie that holds my boiling Passion.
I still respect my Iphigenia's Father.
But wer [...]t not for that Name, perhaps the Chief
Of Twenty Kings had dar'd me once for all.
One Word and I have done: But mark me well.
Your Daughter and my Honour ly at stake:
I will defend them both; And if you'd reach
The Heart you aim to strike, This is the way
Points to his Breast.
Through which your Blow must pass.
Exit Achilles
Agam.
And this shall make her Sentence past recal:
My Daughter was more dread [...]ul by her Self.
Thy haughty Love, that thinks to make me tremble,
Anticipates the Blow, thou meanst to ward.
No more Debates—
It is resolv'd I'll dare his Insolence:
My injur'd Honour summons all my Reason,
And his proud Threats d [...]termine the Contest,
'Twixt Nature and the Gods; for now my Pity
Would look like Fear—Guards—
[Page 37] Enter Eurybates, Guards.
Euryb.
My Lord.
Agam.
What am I doing!
How can I give the bloody, rash Command?
Barbarous Man!
What Fight doest thou Prepare? What hated Foe,
Art thou exposing to their Violence?
A Mother waits me: An undaunted Mother,
Who will defend her 'gainst a murdering Father.
I shall behold my Men less cruel than my self,
Respect my Daughter guarded by their Queen.
'Tis true Achilles threatens and contemns me:
But still my Daughter's constant to her Duty;
She neither flies the Altar, nor declines
With murmuring Discontent the Blow I give,
What means my horrid, sacrilegious Zeal?
What Vows can I address for such a Victim?
A glorious Harvest waits me: But what Laurels
Can please, when stain'd by Iphigenia's Blood?
I will appease the angry Gods: But, oh!
What Gods, can be more cruel to me, than I am to my Self?
No: 'twill not be. I yield to Love, to Nature:
I'll not blush at my Pity, she shall live.
But what! Am I
Regardless of my Fame? Must proud Achilles
Carry the Day, and think I fear'd his Threats?
What frivolous care disturbs my anxious Mind!
He loves my Daughter:
She'll make another blest.—Eurybates
Call hither Clytemnestra and the Princess:
Tell them they need not fear.—
Exit Eurybates [...]
Almighty Powers!
If your immortal Hatred perseveres
To wrest her from my Hands, what can weak Mortals do,
I know my Love destroys what I would save:
Yet such a Victim does at least deserve
A confirmation of your rigorous Laws,
And that you should demand it once again.
[Page 38] [...]nt [...] Clytemnostra, I [...]hig [...]ni [...], [...]iphile, Aegina, Do [...]i [...], Eury [...]s
[...] you and your Daughter may depar [...]:
[...] be your Care. Has [...]e from this Place
Wh [...]r [...] [...]lty bears sway. My Guards, commanded
By [...] [...] shall attend you; I excuse
[...] happy Ra [...]hness. Secrecy and Speed
A [...]e now requir [...]d: Both Calchas and Ulysses
Hav [...] hi [...]e [...]to been silent; and therefore
Take [...] they're not acquainted with your Fligh [...],
[...] Daughter, that the Camp may think
[...] keep her here, and send you back alone.
Go, Fly—
And may the Gods contented with my Tears,
W [...]ep.
Spare me the sight of Iphig [...]nia
For a long time.—Guards, attend the Queen.
Cly [...].
Oh [...] Husband [...]
Weep
Iphig.
Oh [...] Father [...]
Weep
Agam.
Once more, avoid th' impatient, ba [...]ba [...]ous P [...]iest:
Be gone, [...]ly [...]ence—To favou [...] your Escape
[...]ll find some Reasons to make him suspend,
The fatal Sacrifice till the next day.
Exeunt all but Eriphile, Do [...]i [...].
Eriph.
D [...]ris, this Way.
Do [...].
Madar [...], don [...]t you follow:
E [...]iph.
Oh [...] I yield at last.
[...] the Power of Jealousy and Love:
Achill [...]'s Tenderness fills me with Rage.
I [...] is r [...]s [...]lved, I'll be reveng'd or fall,
Come, [...]o [...]he Priest I will discover all.
Exeunt Eriphile, Doris.
The END o [...] the Fourth ACT.
ACT V. SCENE I.
Enter Iphigenia, Aegina holding h [...]r.
IPhig.
Aegina, cease to stop me: Go, return
To my abandon'd Mother: Th' angry Gods
Must be appeas'd; see how they are provok'd
By our Efforts to rob them of their Victim.
Behold what Storm is gathering thick around us;
Consider to what State the Queen's reduc'd;
See how the [...]urious Camp prevents our Flight [...]
How with bold Insolence their pointed Spears
Stop up our Passage—
Aegin.
Dear Madam, stay:
Don't run to certain Ruin.
Iphig.
All hopes are vanish'd:
Our Guards repuls'd: My Mother in a Swoon [...]
Oh! Why should I expose her any more?
Or wait her feeble help in vain? No, rather
Let me fly from her, whilest her troubled Sen [...]s
Will su [...]e [...] me to meet my cruel Fate.
See, see how all conspires for my undoing,
For even my Father when he bids me Live,
Commands my Death.—
Aegin.
He, Madam? How!
Iphig.
Achilles, I suppose, offended him,
Too eager to defend his injur'd Love.
Yet, as he hates him, I must hate him too.
My Heart must offer up this Sacrifice,
This horrid, cruel, Sacrifice of Love.
Arcas declar'd to me my Father's Will [...]
He orders I shall never speak to him.
Aegin.
Oh! Cruel Father!
Iphig.
Oh! Fatal Doom [...] Oh! Rigorous Dec [...]e
The milder Gods demanded but my Life;
Then set's [...]hey Lets die:—What do I see [...]
Heaven! 'Tis Achi [...].
[Page 40] Enter Achilles.
A [...]i [...].
Come, M [...]d [...]m, [...]ollow me: Fear not the Tumult
Of that weak crowd th [...]t presses [...]ound this Tent.
Do b [...]t app [...]ar: You'll s [...]e thi [...] M [...]l [...]itude
Ne' [...]e da [...]e to stand the [...]iercenes [...] of my Blow,
But open of themselves to l [...]t y [...]u Pass.
My [...]riend Patr [...]les, wi [...]h s [...]m [...] other Captains
That [...]ollow my Command, [...]ly to your Succour
With all the Choice of my Thessalian Troops.
The rest assembled near my Tent will offer
Th' impenetrable Bulwark of their Ranks.
Behind this she [...]ter you may bid defiance
To all your Pe [...]secutors: Let who dares
Approach A [...]hille [...]'s Tent. But, Madam, is't thus
You second my Ef [...]orts? A [...]d answer me
Only with Tear [...]? You try'd th [...]ir feeble Succour
Before your Father [...] yet [...]twas all in vain.
Iphig.
My Lord, too well I know it, and therefore
I have no hopes but from my certain Death.
A [...]hil.
Oh [...] Name not Death: Consider by what Ti [...]
You're join'd to me: Consider all my Bliss
Depends on you.—
Iphig.
No, No: The Gods did ne're intend
To [...]ix your Bliss on my unhappy Days.
Our Love deceiv'd us: [...]Tis by Heaven decreed
My [...]peedy Death shall cause your Happiness.
My Lord, c [...]nsider what a C [...]op of Glory
[...]ict [...]ry presents to crown your warlike Toils.
Yet all those Fields of Honour will prove barren,
Unless besprinkled with my fatal Blood.
In vain my Father strove t [...] evade the Sentence
That Ca [...]ch [...]s had pronounc [...]d: Th' immortal Gods
Loudly d [...]cla [...] their Wi [...]l by the whole Camp
Combin'd [...]or my undoing.—
A [...]hil.
Madam,
Achi [...]les will encounter the whole Camp,
And silence their loud Threa [...]s.
Ip [...]g.
My [...]ord,
[...] not my [...]ife dep [...]ive you of your Honours:
Make good the Oracle [...] Go, Signalize
[...] [...]eroe promis'd to our Country,
[...] you Grief upon i [...]s c [...]uel Foes
Does [...]ear my [...]uneral Pile, and dreads your Tear [...]
Lay waste the hated City: Leave my D [...]ath
To be lamen [...]ed by the Trojan Widows.
I die contented with these pleasing Hopes,
That if my cruel Stars do not permit,
I should live happy with my dear Achilles,
Yet After [...]Ages will record my Name
With your immortal Deeds, and that my Dea [...]h,
The Spring of your fam'd Actions, will b [...]gin
The wondrous Story.—
Farewel, my Prince: Blest O [...] spring of the Gods
Farewel.—
Achil.
No, no: You shall not take your fatal leave:
In vain your cruel [...]nd [...]e [...]swadi [...]g A [...]ts,
S [...]ily endeavour to deceive my Love,
And serve your barb [...]ous, inhumane Father;
In vain you're obstinate to your undoing,
And strive to make my Honour an Accompli [...];
That Crop o [...] glorious Laurels, that Renow [...],
I find them all in saving what I Love.
Who, for the [...]uture, would court my Assistanc [...],
If I could not secure my promis'd Bride?
My Love, my Honour, both [...]id you should liv [...].
Madam, obey their Call, and [...]ollow me.
Iphig.
What! Sir, rebel against my Father!
And so deserve that Death you bid me shun [...]
What must become of my Respect, my D [...]ty?
Achil.
Discharge them both in following a [...].
Your Father has approv'd. In vain he st [...]ives
To rob me of that Title; I'll ne're s [...]ffer
The Violation of his solemn Promise.
Madam, your Self, whom rigid Duty aws,
Did not you own him as your Father, when
He gave You to me? Do you only [...]ollow
His sovereign Will when ceasing to be Fa [...]he [...],
He Murders his own Daughter?
But, Madam [...] we wa [...]te Time, and my ju [...] [...]e [...]r —
[...]
Iphig.
Wh [...] My [...]o [...]d, would you [...]
And hurried by your [...]ierce and impi [...]u [...] [...]
Compleat my cr [...]el Woes? How c [...]n you b [...]
Less te [...]der of my [...]onour th [...]n my Li [...]?
Alas! My L [...]d, spare Ip [...]ig [...]nia:
Spare my Affli [...]tion. I have [...]
That rigorous Law [...] o [...]ght to [...]
[Page 42] [...]
Madam, what can he do? What Valour could dispe [...]
That Multi [...]ude of Foes that will surround him.
Cl [...]t.
Then let them come and prove th [...]ir [...] Z [...]l
On [...]orlorn me: Let their blind Fury take
The weak Remainder of my wretched Life.
Death, Death alone is able to unclasp
My grasping [...]ands from Ip [...]igenia.
My Soul shall first be sev [...]r'd from my Body
Than I from my dear Daughter— [...]
[...]
Iphig.
Oh! Madam! What cruel Star did [...]
That inau [...]picious Day when you brough [...] [...]
Th' unhappy Object of your tender Love
Alas! What can your weak E [...]orts per [...]orm [...]
Abandon'd as we are? You must encounter
Bo [...]h Gods and Men confederate to undo me.
Meet not the Rage of a fierce Multitude [...]
Let not your Fondness lead you to the C [...]mp,
Against [...] [...]usband's Orders, and alon [...]
Strive not in vain to save me [...]—
Don't aggravate my Woes wi [...]h th [...] sa [...] View
Of a dear Mother basely dragg'd along
By a licentious Band of furious Soldiers [...]
Go— let the Greeks appease the angry G [...]d [...];
And leave for ever this detested Shore.
Fly from the sight of those devouring Flames.
Which would oppress your tender Heart with [...]
While they consume your Guiltless Daughter—
And, as you love me with Maternal Fondness,
I beg you ne' [...]e reproach my Father with my D [...]ath.
Clyt.
What! Not reproach the wild Barbari [...]n,
Who leads his Daughter to a Murdering Priest!
Iphig.
Madam, Consider
All he has done to save me, and prevent
Your cruel Woe.
Clyt.
Oh! By what Treachery
The ba [...]barous Man deceiv'd me!
Iphig.
Madam, He but resigns me to the G [...]ds
That gave me to him: Yet Death takes not from you
The only off-spring of your nuptial Jo [...]s.
Your mutual [...]oves have still anothe [...] [...]ledge
In young Orestes: May he prove less [...]al
To his dear Mother, than his wretched Sister [...]
[Page 44] [...]dam.
You hea [...] [...]he Voice of an impatient People.
Shoutings within.
Summon [...] Constancy; Pray, l [...]t me go—
Now take my l [...]s [...] Farewel—
Clytemnestra [...]aints.
Arca [...],
Lead to the Altar.
Ex [...]unt Iphigenia, Arcas.
C [...].
Where? Where's my Daughter?
Recovering.
[...] no, you shall not go alone—
[...]ut I am s [...]op [...]—
Guards stop her Passage.
[...] treacherous Villains let me go
Or [...] y [...]ur Thirst of Blood in me.
[...].
M [...]dam, what would you do? Where would [...] run?
Holding her.
[...].
Ala [...]! My Spirits wa [...]te in f [...]uitle [...], struggles:
[...] [...]elapse into that f [...]int diso [...]der,
[...] I had [...] recov [...]'d—Must I live
O [...]ly t [...] di [...] a thousand Deaths!
[...].
[...] be that treache [...]o [...]s, inhumane Serpent
[...] cherish'd in her f [...]iendly Bosom.
[...], whose jealous Fury
R [...]ve [...]d o [...] [...]ight to Calchas and [...]he Camp.
[...].
Oh [...] Mon [...]e [...], whom Tisiphone brought forth!
[...], whom Hell convey'd into our Bosoms [...]
[...] of Envy, Jealousie and Rage!
What [...] [...]halt th [...]n [...]ive [...] Must thy black Treachery
[...] un [...]uni [...]h'd [...] But why should my Grief
D [...]a [...] [...] a Victim?
[...] [...]u [...]t Neptune see his Ba [...]ks distain'd
W [...] innocent Blood, and not devour the Grecians
In the dark Bottom of the wa [...]y Deep?
Shal [...] then the Winds, whom they so long accus'd,
[...]e Pa [...]tners in their Crime, and not destroy
Their guilty Fleet?
And Thou, immortal Sun, who on this Shore
Behold [...] the Son and [...]eir of bloody Atr [...]us:
[...], who disdain'd to light the ba [...]rous Feast
Of [...]is inhumane Father, now withdraw
[...] Beams, and shine not on thi [...] impious Deed.
[...], Oh! Heaven! Oh! Earth! Oh! Wretched Mother!
With [...]a [...]al Garlands Iphig [...]nia crown'd,
Like a [...]a [...]e Victim, waits the cruel Knife
Her Father has prepa [...]'d; the murderous Priest
Is just ready to strike—Hold, B [...]c [...]e [...]s, hold [...]
[Page]The Blood you spill derives from mighty Jove—
Hold—Hold.
Runs off with her [...].
Exeunt Om [...]
While a Symphony is playing an Altar is rais'd near the Sea Shore [...]
Enter King Agamemnon weeping; Menelaus, Nes [...]or, Ulysses, Arcas, &c.
Calchas the High Priest; Iphigenia between two P [...]i [...]sts; Eriphile, Dor [...]s.
A CHORUS of PRIESTS.
The INVOCATION to DIANA.
I.
OH! Diana! Whose dread Eye [...]
Delight in humane Sacrifice:
Oh! Diana! Cease to frown
And with gentle Smiles look down,
While with [...]lowry Wreaths we this fair Victim crown.
Chorus [...] Crown, Crown, the Victim Crown
That bleeds for bright Renown;
And on her Virgin head
The pure Libation shed,
While these to chaste Diana holy measures [...]ead.
II.
Guardian of each Hill and Grove,
And Queen of the great Gods above,
Fill, oh! Fill with prosperous Gale [...]
Our spreading Sails;
And to the Phrygian Coast
Convey the Grecian [...]
That with avenging Arm's [...]
Th' adulterous Guest, with his per [...]t [...]o [...]s [...]
C [...]rus That with avenging A [...]ms [...] [...] & [...]
III.
Th [...] Royal Victim [...] a [...]o [...]ement makes [...]
For [...] The [...] Winds awake [...]
[Page 46]See, see the Fleet now big with War,
F [...]s swiftly to the Troj [...]n Shoar.
H [...]k! Hark! Now th [...] glori [...]s Di [...]'s begun,
L [...]st Cho [...]us.
Now, now th [...] Drums ra [...]le,
And all around,
The l [...]ud Trumpets r [...]ound,
And Clanglors rebound,
Oh! The wild Furies of Battle!
The Vict [...]ry's w [...]n,
They run, they run, they run:
I [...] [...]o! Victoria! They all shout amain,
[...]ct [...]ria! Great Hector, great Hector is slain
T [...]oy [...]s won: H [...]r l [...]fty Towers tumble all,
[...] I [...] [...]genia is leading to b [...] Sacrifi [...]'d the Sun is Eclips'd; S [...]k. in th [...] Air; Subterran [...]an Groans and H [...]wlings; Thunder.
See, see, how they fall,
Io [...] Io! Victoria! Victoria!
Last Chorus.
Now, now the Drums rattle, &c. &c.
Cal [...].
What mean these Horrors!
Th [...] Sun wit [...]draws his beamy Light; the Air
I [...] s [...]il'd wi [...]h hideous Skrieks, and gloomy [...]ell
Sen [...]s up [...]ierce Groans and Subterranean Cries.
Al [...]y Iove himself, with threatning Thunder,
[...] [...]is Wrath; all Nature is in Pain.
E [...].
Oh! D [...]ris, how I tremble.
Clas [...]ing of Swords within.
Enter A [...]hilles, Patroclus, and Followers.
[...]
W [...]ere! Where' [...] my I [...]nia!
H [...]ld, Ma [...]de [...]s [...] hold.
Calch.
My Lord, con [...]ain [...]our Passion [...] I bid you, hold.
The G [...]s thems [...]lves are ang [...]y—They must [...]st be heard.
Thund [...]r.
C [...]lch [...] [...] b [...]i [...]d [...] A [...]r [...]o consult the O [...]acle and th [...]n return [...] w [...]h a wild. [...] tr [...]bling H [...]ds &c.
I [...] sp [...]k, [...] s [...]k: [...]et all the [...]mp be sil [...]:
[...]—
[...]
[...] Will [...] my [...].
Another Iphig [...]n [...]a mu [...] f [...]ll a Victim.
From Hellen ravish'd by bold Th [...]s [...]us
A Princess sprung [...]all'd [...]p [...]g [...]ni [...],
Who still remains unknown.
I s [...]w. I saw my sel [...] th' unhappy [...]uits
Of their unlawful Love [...] and ev [...]n then foretold
[...] Do [...]—
By D [...]stiny' [...] [...]mp [...]lse, and her own Fu [...]es,
[...]e's come to A [...]lis with a borrow'd Name.
Sh [...] [...] the [...]: There she stand [...]: [...]Tis [...]h [...]
P [...]ts to [...]
The Gods [...].—
As C [...]l [...]has [...]s going to lay [...]old [...]n E [...]iphile [...]atch [...]s the Knife.
[...]ph.
But [...]er, a [...]aunt [...] [...]et not thy impious Hand
P [...]ophane that Blood from which thou sayst I spring
Now, Do [...]is, all my Fe [...]rs are come to pass [...]
T [...] Do [...]i [...].
Yet, tho [...] the angry Goddess bids me die,
I f [...]ll a Victim to a greater Power.
Almighty Love now s [...]ikes th [...] fatal Blow [...]
Stabs [...] self.
Achi [...]les, Dear—Achi [...]les [...]—
Di [...].
Iphig.
Un [...]appy Maid [...]
Thunder and Lightning; The Altar is lighted; The f [...]at Scene op [...]ns, an [...] [...] a H [...]aven at a distance; Diana, in a Mach [...]ne, [...] the Stage; the Pr [...]sts wo [...]ship as she pass [...]s.
Calch.
G [...]eat Sir, the God [...] are satisfied;
Gives Iphig. to Agamem.
A [...] I [...]ig [...]a is [...]ou [...]s [...].
Agam.
M [...]st I b [...]li [...] [...] [...]yes! Oh [...] Sir [...] Oh [...] Daughter
Embraces her.
Achil.
Oh! Infini [...]e [...]
Arc [...]s. [...]ly to the Queen,
To Arcas.
Tell her the Princess live [...]. My Lord, I hope
Exit Arcas.
You will [...]o [...]get—.
To Ag [...]memnon.
[...]g [...]m [...]
Y [...]s: I [...]orget all:
N [...]. I [...] my se [...], [...]'m la [...] i [...] [...]
[...]
[...]
My [...]augh [...]r s [...]ll be [...] Q [...]e [...] [...]h [...]ll gi [...]e her [...]
[...]
[...]
[...] Wind [...] and [...] S [...]out [...]
Achil.
[Page 48]Oh! Transports of Delight! Oh! Raptutous Bliss!
My Love is crown'd; The Winds begin to roar,
And fill our spreading Sails; to Troy, to Troy,
To Victory and Fame.—
Calch.
Let Aft [...]-Ages learn from this great D [...]y,
To reverence the God's supreme Decrees:
For they are just, and ever recompense,
True Piety, and spotless Innocence.
FINIS.