Thoas. 
Hidden there
Let them abide.  A truce to horror now,
And tell me by what miracle thou sprang’st
From race so savage.

Iphigenia. 
Atreus’ eldest son
Was Agamemnon; he, O king, my sire: 
But I may say with truth, that, from a child,
In him the model of a perfect man
I witness’d ever.  Clytemnestra bore
To him, myself, the firstling of their love,
Electra then.  Peaceful the monarch rul’d,
And to the house of Tantalus was given
A long-withheld repose.  A son alone
Was wanting to complete my parent’s bliss;
Scarce was this wish fulfill’d, and young Orestes,
The household’s darling, with his sisters grew,
When new misfortunes vex’d our ancient house. 
To you hath come the rumour of the war,
Which, to avenge the fairest woman’s wrongs,
The force united of the Grecian kings
Round Ilion’s walls encamp’d.  Whether the town
Was humbl’d, and achiev’d their great revenge
I have not heard.  My father led the host
In Aulis vainly for a favouring gale
They waited; for, enrag’d against their chief,
Diana stay’d their progress, and requir’d,
Through Chaleas’ voice, the monarch’s eldest daughter. 
They lur’d me with my mother to the camp,
And at Diana’s altar doom’d this head.—­
She was appeas’d, she did not wish my blood,
And wrapt me in a soft protecting cloud;
Within this temple from the dream of death
I waken’d first.  Yes, I myself am she;
Iphigenia,—­I who speak to thee
Am Atreus’ grandchild, Agamemnon’s child,
And great Diana’s consecrated priestess.

                   Thoas. 

I yield no higher honour or regard
To the king’s daughter than the maid unknown;
Once more my first proposal I repeat;
Come, follow me, and share what I possess.

                 Iphigenia. 

How dare I venture such a step, O king? 
Hath not the goddess who protected me
Alone a right to my devoted head? 
’Twas she who chose for me this sanctuary,
Where she perchance reserves me for my sire,
By my apparent death enough chastis’d,
To be the joy and solace of his age. 
Perchance my glad return is near; and how
If I, unmindful of her purposes,
Had here attach’d myself against her will? 
I ask’d a signal, did she wish my stay.

                   Thoas. 

The signal is that still thou tarriest here. 
Seek not evasively such vain pretexts. 
Not many words are needed to refuse,
By the refus’d the no alone is heard.

                 Iphigenia. 

Mine are not words meant only to deceive;
I have to thee my inmost heart reveal’d. 
And doth no inward voice suggest to thee,
How I with yearning soul must pine to see
My father, mother, and my long-lost home? 
Oh let thy vessels bear me thither, king! 
That in the ancient halls, where sorrow still
In accents low doth fondly breathe my name,
Joy, as in welcome of a new-born child,
May round the columns twine the fairest wreath. 
Thou wouldst to me and mine new life impart.