ARKAS.
Thy duty and thy interest calmly weigh.
Since the king lost his son, he trusts but few,
Nor those as formerly. Each noble's son
He views with jealous eye as his successor;
He dreads a solitary, helpless age,
Or rash rebellion, or untimely death.
A Scythian studies not the rules of speech,
And least of all the king. He who is used
To act and to command, knows not the art,
From far, with subtle tact, to guide discourse
Through many windings to its destin'd goal.
Do not embarrass him with shy reserve
And studied misconception: graciously,
And with submission, meet the royal wish.

IPHIGENIA.
Shall I then speed the doom that threatens me?

ARKAS.
His gracious offer canst thou call a threat?

IPHIGENIA.
'Tis the most terrible of all to me.

ARKAS.
For his affection grant him confidence.

IPHIGENIA.
If he will first redeem my soul from fear.