'Tis through the heart alone they speak to us.

THOAS.
To hear them have I not an equal right?

IPHIGENIA.
The raging tempest drowns the still, small voice.

THOAS.
This voice no doubt the priestess hears alone.

IPHIGENIA.
Before all others should the prince attend it.

THOAS.
Thy sacred office, and ancestral right
To Jove's own table, place thee with the gods
In closer union than an earth-born savage.

IPHIGENIA.
Thus must I now the confidence atone
Thyself extorted from me!

THOAS.
I'm a man,
And better 'tis we end this conference.
Hear then my last resolve. Be priestess still
Of the great goddess who selected thee;
And may she pardon me, that I from her,
Unjustly and with secret self-reproach,