Iphigenia at Aulis (1130-1210)

There is no necessity to order me; I am willing to be questioned.

Do you mean to slay your child and mine?

Ha! these are heartless words, unwarranted suspicions!

Peace! answer me that question first.

Put a fair question and you shall have a fair answer.

I have no other questions to put; give me no other answers.

O fate revered, O destiny, and my fortune!

Yes, and mine and hers too; the three share one bad fortune.

Whom have I injured?

Do you ask this question? A thought like that itself amounts to tboughtlessness.

Ruined! my secret betrayed!

I know all; I have heard what you are bent on doing to me.[*] Your very silence and those frequent groans are a confession; do not tire yourself by telling it.

See, I am silent; for why should I tell you a falsehood,

and add effrontery to misfortune?

Well, now listen; for I will unfold my meaning and no longer employ dark riddles. In the first place—to reproach you first with this—it was not of my own free will but by force that you took and wed me,

after slaying Tantalus, my former husband, and dashing[*] my baby on the ground when you had torn him from my breast with brutal violence. Then those two sons of Zeus, who were my brothers, came flashing on horseback to war with you;

but Tyndareus, my old father, rescued you because of your suppliant prayers, and you in turn had me to wife. Once I was reconciled to you upon this footing, you will bear me witness I have been a blameless wife to you and your family, chaste in love,

an honor to your house, that so your coming in might be with joy and your going out with gladness. And it is seldom a man secures a wife like this, though the getting of a worthless woman Is no rarity.

Besides three daughters, of one of whom you are heartlessly depriving me,

I am the mother of this son of yours. If anyone asks you your reason for slaying her, tell me, what will you say? or must I say it for you? It is that Menelaus may recover Helen. An honorable exchange, indeed, to pay a wicked woman’s price in children’s lives!

It is buying what we most detest[*] with what we hold most dear. Again, if you go forth with the army, leaving me in your halls and are long absent at Troy, what will my feelings be at home, do you think? when I behold each vacant chair

and her chamber now deserted, and then sit down alone in tears, making ceaseless lamentation for her, Ah! my child, he that begot you has slain you himself, he and no one else, nor are was it by another’s hand,[*] leaving behind him such a return to his home.

For it needs[*] now only a trifling pretext for me and the daughters remaining to give you the reception it is right you should receive. I adjure you by the gods, do not compel me to sin against you, or sin yourself.

Well; suppose you sacrifice the child; what prayer will you utter, when it is done? what will the blessing be that you will invoke upon yourself as you are slaying our daughter? An ill returning, seeing the disgrace that speeds your going forth? Is it right that I should pray for any luck to attend you? Surely we should deem the gods devoid of sense,

if we harbored a kindly feeling towards murder? Shall you embrace your children on your coming back to Argos? No, you have no right. Will any child of yours ever face you, if you have surrendered one of them to death?[*] Has this ever entered into your calculations, or does your one duty consist

in carrying a scepter about and marching at the head of an army? When you might have made this fair proposal among the Argives; Is it your wish, Achaeans, to sail for Phrygia’s shores? Why then, cast lots whose daughter has to die. For that would have been a fair course for you to pursue, instead of picking out

your own child for the victim and presenting her to the Danaids; or Menelaus, as it was his concern, should have slain Hermione for her mother. As it is, I, who still am true to your bed, must lose my child; while she, who went astray,

will return with her daughter, and live in happiness at Sparta. If I am wrong in my words, answer me; but if they have been fairly urged, do not still[*] slay your child, who is mine too, and you will be wise.

Hearken to her, Agamemnon, for to join in saving your children’s lives is surely a noble deed;

no one will deny this.