ORESTES: When I implor'd Apollo to remove The grisly band of Furies from my side, He promised aid and safety in the fane Of his lov'd sister, who o'er Tauris rules. Thus the prophetic word fulfils itself, That with my life shall terminate my woe. Thee only, friend, thee am I loath to take, The guiltless partner of my crime and curse, To yonder cheerless shore! PYLADES: Think not of death! But mark if not the gods perchance present Means and fit moment for a joyful flight. The gods avenge not on the son the deeds Done by their father. ORESTES: It is their decree Which doth destroy us. PYLADES: From our guards I learn A strange and god-like woman holds in check The execution of the bloody law. ORESTES: The monarch's savage will decrees our death; A woman cannot save when he condemns. PYLADES: She comes: leave us alone. I dare not tell At once our names, nor unreserv'd confide Our fortunes to her. Now retire awhile. [_Exit_ ORESTES. _Enter_ IPHIGENIA. IPHIGENIA: Whence art thou? Stranger, speak! To me thy bearing Stamps thee of Grecian, not of Scythian race. [_She unbinds his chains_. The gods avert the doom that threatens you! PYLADES: Delicious music! Dearly welcome tones Of our own language in a foreign land! We are from Crete, Adrastus' sons; and I Am Cephalus; my eldest brother, he, Laodamas. Between us stood a youth Whom, when our sire died (having return'd From Troy, enrich'd with loot), in contest fierce My brother slew! 'Tis thus the Furies now For kindred-murder dog his restless steps. But to this savage shore the Delphian god Hath sent us, cheer'd by hope. My tale is told. IPHIGENIA: Troy fallen! Dear stranger, oh, say! PYLADES: The stately town Now lies in ruins. Many a hero's grave Will oft our thoughts recall to Ilion's shore. There lies Achilles and his noble friend; Nor Palamedes, nor Ajax, e'er again The daylight of their native land beheld. Yet happy are the thousands who receiv'd Their bitter death-blow from a hostile hand, And not like Agamemnon, who, ensnared, Fell murdered on the day of his return By Clytemnestra, with Ægisthus' aid. IPHIGENIA: Base passion prompted then this deed of shame? PYLADES: And feelings, cherish'd long of deep revenge. For such a dreadful deed, that if on earth Aught could exculpate murder, it were this. The monarch, for the welfare of the Greeks, Her eldest daughter doomed. Within her heart This planted such abhorrence that forthwith She to Ægisthus hath resigned herself, And round her husband flung the web of death. IPHIGENIA (_veiling herself_): It is enough! Thou wilt again behold me. ACT III IPHIGENIA _and_ ORESTES.