Iphigenia at Aulis (410-506)

So you have no mind to share this trouble with Hellas?

No, Hellas is diseased like you, according to some god’s design.

Go boast of your scepter, after betraying your own brother! while[*] I will seek some different means and other friends.

Agamemnon, lord of Hellas!

I have come and bring you your daughter, whom you call Iphigenia in your home; and her mother, your wife Clytemnestra, is with her, and the child Orestes, a sight to gladden[*] you after your long absence from your home;

but they had been travelling long and far, they are now resting their tender feet at the waters of a fair spring, they and their horses, for we turned these loose in the grassy meadow to browse their fill. But I have come as their forerunner to prepare you for their reception;

for the army knows already of your daughter’s arrival, so quickly did the rumor spread; and all the people are running together to the sight, that they may see your child; for Fortune’s favorites enjoy world-wide fame and have all eyes fixed on them.

Some say: Is it a wedding, or what is happening? or has king Agamemnon from fond yearning summoned his daughter here? From others you would have heard: They are presenting the maiden to Artemis, queen of Aulis, previous to marriage; who can the bridegroom be, that is to lead her home?

Come, then, begin the rites, that is the next step, by getting the baskets ready; crown your heads—you too,[*] lord Menelaus; prepare the wedding hymn; let flutes sound throughout the tents with noise of dancer’s feet; for this is a happy day, that has come for the maid.

You have my thanks; now go within; for the rest it will be well, as Fate proceeds. Exit Messenger.

Ah, woe is me! unhappy wretch, what can I say? where shall I begin? To what cruel straits have I been plunged! A god has outwitted me, proving far cleverer

than any cunning of mine. What an advantage humble birth possesses! for it is easy for her sons to weep and tell out all their sorrows; while to the high-born man come these same sorrows, but we heve dignity

throned over our life and are the people’s slaves.[*] I, for instance, am ashamed to weep, and no less ashamed, poor wretch, to check my tears at the dreadful pass to which I am brought. Enough; what am I to tell my wife?

how shall I welcome her? with what face meet her? for she too has undone me by coming uninvited in this my hour of sorrow; yet it was only natural she should come with her daughter to prepare the bride and perform the fondest duties, where she will discover my villainy.

And for this poor maid—why maid? Death, it seems, will soon make her his bride—how I pity her! Thus will she plead to me, I think: My father, will you slay me? May you yourself make such a marriage, and whoever is a friend to you!

While Orestes, from his station near us, will cry in childish accents, inarticulate, yet fraught with meaning. Alas! to what utter ruin Paris, the son of Priam, the cause of these troubles, has brought me by his union with Helen!

I pity her myself, as a woman who is a stranger

may grieve for the misfortunes of royalty.

Your hand, brother! let me grasp it.

I give it; yours is the victory, mine the sorrow.

By Pelops our reputed grandsire and Atreus our father,

I swear to tell you the truth from my heart, without any covert purpose, but only what I think. The sight of you in tears made me pity you, and in return I shed a tear for you myself; I withdraw from my former proposals,

ceasing to be a cause of fear to you; yes, and I will put myself in your present position;[*] and I counsel you, do not slay your child or prefer my interests to yours; for it is not just that you should grieve, while I am glad, or that your children should die, while mine still see the light of day.

What is it, after all, I seek? If I am set on marriage, could I not find a bride as choice elsewhere? Was I to lose a brother—the last I should have lost—to win a Helen, getting bad for good? I was mad, impetuous as a youth, till I perceived,

on closer view, what slaying children really meant. Moreover I am filled with compassion for the hapless maiden, doomed to bleed that I may wed, when I reflect that we are kin. What has your daughter to do with Helen?

Let the army be disbanded and leave Aulis; dry those streaming eyes, brother, and do not provoke me to tears. Whatever concern you have in oracles that affect your child, let it be none of mine; into your hands I resign my share.

A sudden change, you’ll say, from my dread proposals? A natural course for me; affection for my brother caused the change. These are the ways of a man not devoid of virtue, to pursue on each occasion what is best.

A generous speech, worthy of Tantalus, the son of Zeus;

you do not shame your ancestry.

I thank you, Menelaus, for this unexpected suggestion; it is an honorable proposal, worthy of you. Sometimes love, sometimes the selfishness of their families, causes a quarrel between brothers; I loathe