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• Götz Von Berlichingen With the Iron Hand. a Drama.
• Dramatis PersonÆ
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: An Inn At Schwarzenberg In Franconia.
• Scene II.—: A Cottage In a Thick Forest.
• Scene III.—: An Apartment In Jaxthausen, the Castle of Goetz Von Berlichingen.
• Scene IV.—: The Bishop of Bamberg’s Palace.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Bamberg. a Hall.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen. a Hall In Goetz’s Castle.
• Scene III.—: The Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene IV.—: The Spessart.
• Scene V.—: The Bishop’s Palace. His Cabinet.
• Scene VI.—: Adelaide’s Apartment.
• Scene VII.—: An Ante-room.
• Scene VIII.—: The Spessart.
• Scene IX.—: Hall In the Bishop’s Palace At Bamberg.
• Scene X—: an Inn.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: A Garden At Augsburg.
• Scene II.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene III.—: The Camp of the Party Sent to Execute the Imperial Mandate.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: Bamberg. Adelaide’s Chamber.
• Scene VI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene VII.—: A Wood On the Borders of a Morass.
• Scene VIII.—: Camp of the Imperialists.
• Scene IX.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene X.—: The Imperial Camp.
• Scene XI.—: Mountains and a Wood.
• Scene XII.—: A Heath—on One Side an Eminence, With a Ruined Tower, On the Other the Forest.
• Scene XIII.—: The Camp.
• Scene XIV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XV.—: Camp.
• Scene XVI.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene XVII.—: The Kitchen.
• Scene XVIII.—: A Hall.
• Scene XIX.—: The Court of the Castle.
• Scene XX.: The Armory.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: An Inn In the City of Heilbronn
• Scene II.—: The Council-house At Heilbronn.
• Scene III.—: A Large Hall In the Council-house, Beset By Sickingen’s Troops.
• Scene IV.—: The Castle of Adelaide. Augsburg.
• Scene V.—: Jaxthausen.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Village Plundered By the Insurgent Peasantry. Shrieks and Tumult.
• Scene II.—: Open Country. In the Distance Two Villages and an Abbey Are Burning.
• Scene III.—: A Hill and Prospect of the Country. In the Flat Scene a Mill. a Body of Horsemen.
• Scene IV.—: Jaxthausen.
• Scene V.—: A Village.
• Scene VI.—: The Front of a Gypsy-hut In a Wild Forest.—night.—a Fire Before the Hut, At Which Are Seated the Mother of the Gypsies and a Girl.
• Scene VII.—: Inside the Hut.
• Scene VIII.—: Adelaide’s Bedchamber.
• Scene IX.—: Street Before the Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene X.—: An Apartment In Weislingen’s Castle.
• Scene XI.—: A Narrow Vault Dimly Illuminated. the Judges of the Secret Tribunal Discovered Seated, All Muffled In Black Cloaks.
• Scene XII.—: The Court of an Inn.
• Scene XIII.—: The Prison At Heilbronn.
• Scene the Last. —: the Prison Garden.
• Iphigenia In Tauris a Drama
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: A Grove Before the Temple of Diana.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Torquato Tasso
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.: A Garden Adorned With Busts of the Epic Poets. to the Right a Bust of Virgil: to the Left, One of Ariosto.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: A Room.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act III.
• Scene I.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: A Chamber.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: A Garden.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Clavigo
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Dwelling.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Dwelling.
• Act II.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s House.
• Act III.
• Scene I.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act IV.
• Scene I.—: Clavigo’s Abode. Carlos, Alone.
• Scene II.—: Guilbert’s Abode.
• Act V.
• Scene I.—: The Street Before the House of Guilbert. Night.
• Scene II.
• Scene III.
• Scene IV.
• Scene V.
• Scene VI.
• Stella. a Tragedy.
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• Act I.
• Act II.
• Act III.
• Act IV.
• Act V.
• The Brother and Sister
• Dramatis PersonÆ.
• A Tale.
• The Good Women.
• Reynard the Fox.
• Chapter I.: The Accusation.
• Chapter II.: The First Summons.
• Chapter III.: The Second Summons.
• Chapter IV.: The Trial.
• Chapter V.: The Pardon.
• Chapter VI.: The Relapse.
• Chapter VII.: The Outlawry.
• Chapter VIII.: The Journey.
• Chapter IX.: The Advocacy.
• Chapter X.: The Second Pardon.
• Chapter XI.: The Defiance.
• Chapter XII.: The Battle.

SCENE III.

Iphigenia, Thoas.

Iphigenia.

Me hast thou summon’d? wherefore art thou here?

Thoas.

Wherefore delay the sacrifice? inform me.

Iphigenia.

I have acquainted Arkas with the reasons.

Thoas.

From thee I wish to hear them more at large.

Iphigenia.

The goddess for reflection grants thee time.

Thoas.

To thee this time seems also opportune.

Iphigenia.

If to this cruel deed thy heart is steel’d,

Thou should’st not come! A king who meditates

A deed inhuman, may find slaves enow,

Willing for hire to bear one half the curse,

And leave the monarch’s presence undefil’d.

Enrapt in gloomy clouds he forges death;

Flaming destruction then his ministers

Hurl down upon his wretched victim’s head;

While he abideth high above the storm,

Calm and untroubled, an impassive god.

Thoas.

A wild song, priestess, issued from thy lips.

Iphigenia.

No priestess, king! but Agamemnon’s daughter;

While yet unknown, thou didst respect my words:

A princess now,—and think’st thou to command me?

From youth I have been tutor’d to obey—

My parents first, and then the deity;

And thus obeying, ever hath my soul

Known sweetest freedom. But nor then nor now

Have I been taught compliance with the voice

And savage mandates of a man.

Thoas.

Not I,

An ancient law doth thy obedience claim.

Iphigenia.

Our passions eagerly catch hold of laws

Which they can wield as weapons. But to me

Another law, one far more ancient, speaks

And doth command me to withstand thee, king!

That law declaring sacred every stranger.

Thoas.

These men, methinks, lie very near thy heart,

When sympathy with them can lead thee thus

To violate discretion’s primal law,

That those in power should never be provok’d.

Iphigenia.

Speaking or silent, thou canst always know

What is, and ever must be, in my heart.

Doth not remembrance of a common doom,

To soft compassion melt the hardest heart?

How much more mine! in them I see myself.

I trembling kneel’d before the altar once,

And solemnly the shade of early death

Environ’d me. Aloft the knife was rais’d

To pierce my bosom, throbbing with warm life;

A dizzy horror overwhelm’d my soul;

My eyes grew dim;—I found myself in safety.

Are we not bound to render the distress’d

The gracious kindness from the gods receiv’d?

Thou know’st we are, and yet wilt thou compel me?

Thoas.

Obey thine office, priestess, not the king.

Iphigenia.

Cease! nor thus seek to cloak the savage force

Which triumphs o’er a woman’s feebleness.

Though woman, I am born as free as man.

Did Agamemnon’s son before thee stand,

And thou requiredst what became him not,

His arm and trusty weapon would defend

His bosom’s freedom. I have only words;

But it becomes a noble-minded man

To treat with due respect the words of woman.

Thoas.

I more respect them than a brother’s sword.

Iphigenia.

Uncertain ever is the chance of arms;

No prudent warrior doth despise his foe;

Nor yet defenceless ’gainst severity

Hath nature left the weak; she gives him craft

And wily cunning; artful he delays,

Evades, eludes, and finally escapes.

Such arms are justified by violence.

Thoas.

But circumspection countervails deceit.

Iphigenia.

Which a pure spirit doth abhor to use.

Thoas.

Do not incautiously condemn thyself.

Iphigenia.

Oh, could’st thou see the struggle of my soul,

Courageously to ward the first attack

Of an unhappy doom which threatens me:

Do I then stand before thee weaponless?

Prayer, lovely prayer, fair branch in woman’s hand,

More potent far than instruments of war,

artist: a. schmitz.

IPHIGENIA IN TAURIS. ACT V, SCENE III.

thoas and iphigenia.

Thou dost thrust back. What now remains for me

Wherewith my inborn freedom to defend?

Must I implore a miracle from heaven?

Is there no power within my spirit’s depths?

Thoas.

Extravagant thy interest in the fate

Of these two strangers. Tell me who they are

For whom thy heart is thus so deeply mov’d.

Iphigenia.

They are—they seem at least—I think them Greeks.

Thoas.

Thy countrymen; no doubt they have renew’d

The pleasing picture of return.

Iphigenia.

(After a pause.) Doth man

Lay undisputed claim to noble deeds?

Doth he alone to his heroic breast

Clasp the impossible? What call we great?

What deeds, though oft narrated, still uplift

With shuddering horror the narrator’s soul,

But those which, with improbable success,

The valiant have attempted? Shall the man

Who all alone steals on his foes by night,

And raging like an unexpected fire,

Destroys the slumbering host, and press’d at length

By rous’d opponents on his foemen’s steeds,

Retreats with booty—be alone extoll’d?

Or he who, scorning safety, boldly roams

Through woods and dreary wilds, to scour the land

Of thieves and robbers? Is naught left for us?

Must gentle woman quite forego her nature,

Force against force employ,—like Amazons,

Usurp the sword from man, and bloodily

Revenge oppression? In my heart I feel

The stirrings of a noble enterprise;

But if I fail—severe reproach, alas!

And bitter misery will be my doom.

Thus on my knees I supplicate the gods!

Oh, are ye truthful, as men say ye are,

Now prove it by your countenance and aid;

Honor the truth in me! Attend, O king!

A secret plot deceitfully is laid;

Touching the captives thou dost ask in vain;

They have departed hence and seek their friends,

Who, with the ship, await them on the shore.

The eldest,—whom dire madness lately seiz’d,

And hath abandon’d now,—he is Orestes,

My brother, and the other Pylades,

His early friend and faithful confidant.

From Delphi, Phœbus sent them to this shore

With a divine command to steal away

The image of Diana, and to him

Bear back the sister thither, and for this

He promis’d to the blood-stain’d matricide,

The Fury-haunted son, deliverance.

I have surrender’d now into thy hands

The remnants of the house of Tantalus.

Destroy us—if thou canst.

Thoas.

And dost thou think

That the uncultur’d Scythian will attend

The voice of truth and of humanity

Which Atreus, the Greek, heard not?

Iphigenia.

’Tis heard

By every one, born ’neath whatever clime,

Within whose bosom flows the stream of life,

Pure and unhinder’d.—What thy thought? O king,

What silent purpose broods in thy deep soul?

Is it destruction? Let me perish first!

For now, deliv’rance hopeless, I perceive

The dreadful peril into which I have

With rash precipitancy plung’d my friends.

Alas! I soon shall see them bound before me!

How to my brother shall I say farewell?

I, the unhappy author of his death.

Ne’er can I gaze again in his dear eyes!

Thoas.

The traitors have contriv’d a cunning web,

And cast it round thee, who, secluded long,

Giv’st willing credence to thine own desires.

Iphigenia.

No, no! I’d pledge my life these men are true.

And should’st thou find them otherwise, O king,

Then let them perish both, and cast me forth,

That on some rock-girt island’s dreary shore

I may atone my folly. Are they true,

And is this man indeed my dear Orestes,

My brother, long implor’d.—release us both,

And o’er us stretch the kind protecting arm

Which long hath shelter’d me. My noble sire

Fell through his consort’s guilt,—she by her son;

On him alone the hope of Atreus’ race

Doth now repose. Oh, with pure heart, pure hand,

Let me depart to purify our house.

Yes, thou wilt keep thy promise; thou didst swear,

That were a safe return provided me,

I should be free to go. The hour is come.

A king doth never grant like common men,

Merely to gain a respite from petition;

Nor promise what he hopes will ne’er be claim’d.

Then first he feels his dignity supreme

When he can make the long-expecting happy.

Thoas.

As fire opposes water, and doth seek

With hissing rage to overcome its foe,

So doth my anger strive against thy words.

Iphigenia.

Let mercy, like the consecrated flame

Of silent sacrifice, encircled round

With songs of gratitude, and joy, and praise,

Above the tumult gently rise to heaven.

Thoas.

How often hath this voice assuag’d my soul?

Iphigenia.

Extend thy hand to me in sign of peace.

Thoas.

Large thy demand within so short a time.

Iphigenia.

Beneficence doth no reflection need.

Thoas.

’Tis needed oft, for evil springs from good.

Iphigenia.

’Tis doubt which good doth oft to evil turn.

Consider not; act as thy feelings prompt thee.