How oft, how oft the darkest hour of ill
Breaks brightest into dawn, if Fate but will!

ORESTES.
Enough. Nor god nor man can any more
Aid me. The woman standeth at the door.

[enter IPHIGENIA from the Temple.]

IPHIGENIA.
Go ye within; and have all things of need
In order set for them that do the deed.
There wait my word.

[ATTENDANTS go in.]

Ye strangers, here I hold
The many-lettered tablet, fold on fold.
Yet ... one thing still. No man, once unafraid
And safe, remembereth all the vows he made
In fear of death. My heart misgiveth me,
Lest he who bears my tablet, once gone free,
Forget me here and set my charge at naught.

ORESTES.
What wouldst thou, then? Thou hast some troubling thought.

IPHIGENIA.
His sworn oath let him give, to bear this same
Tablet to Argos, to the friend I name.