THOAS. These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart. When sympathy with them can lead thee thus To violate discretion's primal law, That those in power should never be provok'd. IPHIGENIA. Speaking or silent, thou canst always know What is, and ever must be, in my heart. Doth not remembrance of a common doom, To soft compassion melt the hardest heart? How much more mine! in them I see myself. I trembling kneel'd before the altar once. And solemnly the shade of early death Environ'd me. Aloft the knife was rais'd To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life; A dizzy horror overwhelm'd my soul; My eyes grew dim;--I found myself in safety. Are we not bound to render the distress'd The gracious kindness from the gods receiv'd? Thou know'st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me? THOAS. Obey thine office, priestess, not the king. IPHIGENIA. Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force Which triumphs o'er a woman's feebleness. Though woman, I am born as free as man. Did Agamemnon's son before thee stand, And thou requiredst what became him not, His arm and trusty weapon would defend His bosom's freedom. I have only words But it becomes a noble-minded man To treat with due respect the words of woman. THOAS. I more respect them than a brother's sword. IPHIGENIA. Uncertain ever is the chance of arms, No prudent warrior doth despise his foe; Nor yet defenceless 'gainst severity Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft And wily cunning: artful he delays, Evades, eludes, and finally escapes. Such arms are justified by violence. THOAS. But circumspection countervails deceit. IPHIGENIA. Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use. THOAS. Do not incautiously condemn thyself. IPHIGENIA. Oh, couldst thou see the struggle of my soul, Courageously to ward the first attack Of an unhappy doom, which threatens me! Do I then stand before thee weaponless? Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman's hand, More potent far than instruments of war, Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend? Must I implore a miracle from heaven? Is there no power within my spirit's depths? THOAS. Extravagant thy interest in the fate Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are, For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov'd. IPHIGENIA. They are--they seem at least--I think them Greeks. THOAS. Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew'd The pleasing picture of return.