Part 11 (1/2)

I think I dimly see One chance.

ORESTES.

What chance? Speak out thy fantasy.

IPHIGENIA'.

On thine affliction I would build my way.

ORESTES.

Women have strange devices.

IPHIGENIA.

I would say Thou com'st from h.e.l.las with thy mother's blood Upon thee.

ORESTES.

Use my shame, if any good Will follow.

IPHIGENIA.

Therefore, an offence most high It were to slay thee to the G.o.ddess!

ORESTES.

Why?

Though I half guess.

IPHIGENIA.

Thy body is unclean.-- Oh, I will fill them with the fear of sin!

ORESTES.

What help is that for the Image?

IPHIGENIA.

I will crave To cleanse thee in the breaking of the wave.

ORESTES.

That leaves the G.o.ddess still inside her shrine, And'tis for her we sailed.

IPHIGENIA.

A touch of thine Defiled her. She too must be purified.

ORESTES.

Where shall it be? Thou knowest where the tide Sweeps up in a long channel?

IPHIGENIA.

Yes! And where Your s.h.i.+p, I guess, lies moored.

ORESTES.

Whose hand will bear-- Should it be thine?--the image from her throne?

IPHIGENIA.

No hand of man may touch it save mine own.