Book_iii8:j4L_ 
 
 Copyright N*_19d_8 - 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSiT. 
 
Jephtha Sacrificing 
 
 and 
 
 Dinah 
 
 Two Dramatic Poems 
 
 By 
 
 Edwin Thomas Whiffen 
 
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 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
 Publishers Neiv York 
 
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 Copyright, igo8y 
 
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 THE GRAFTON PRESS 
 
JEPHTHA SACRIFICING 
 
THE ARGUMENT 
 
 Jephtha, for his vow at setting forth to the conquest 
 of the Ammonites, is constrained to offer his daughter in 
 sacrifice. He consents, though not willingly, to the offer- 
 ing; but is openly opposed in this by his wife and secretly 
 by others; yet, convinced that this is of God, he perse- 
 veres in his purpose to offer his daughter in sacrifice: 
 Which accomplished, the drama concludes. 
 
 THE PERSONS 
 
 Jephtha 
 
 Miriam, daughter to Chorus of Elders of 
 
 Jephtha Mizpeh 
 
 Mara, his wife Messenger 
 
 Servant 
 
 The Scene: Before the house of Jephtha, in Mizpeh 
 
JEPHTHA SACRIFICING 
 
 Jephtha. With certain feet and happy resolution 
 At length I come, in this ancestral spot, 
 Home to my country and my father's house. 
 
 pleasant thoughts that swarming rush upon me 
 Of youthful years distressful, which have changed 
 In man's maturer life to other purpose. 
 Befitting well my birth of lineage high 
 
 And this high mission happily achieved ; 
 Whence happier store of future I presage. 
 Thus glad returned, ancestral house and home! 
 With other hopes I left ye, other mind. 
 When, thrust from home inhospitably, I went 
 Wandering that barren region, where of old 
 Israel wandered; thither then compelled 
 Into the desert, where I long sojourned 
 With others of like sort, as head conjoined. 
 Earning my bread by violence enforced 
 Upon all travelers who passed that way — 
 At least the rich and proud ; the poorer sort 
 
 1 suffered to escape without annoy. 
 
 Or, pined by drouth and hunger, I relieved. 
 And to their need bestowed what I had reft. 
 Adding what I from others had enforced; 
 Whence they in joy departed and in peace, 
 Happy to scape thus quit. Nor all content 
 With such inglorious life, who wont to feel 
 Far otherwise in youth, with hopes inflamed 
 To highest actions, no less in their reach 
 Than freedom for my country, now oppressed 
 By enemies, that us environed round — 
 Not thus as all content here then I stayed 
 Till years w^re passed, and meditated much — 
 What also had my earlier years engaged — 
 To free my country from a cruel yoke. 
 But found no way, so sunk in bondage found 
 And servitude, their fittest punishment 
 Ingloriously who their True Strength forsook, 
 
 [5] 
 
Thus fallen away to brutish idols foul. 
 
 Yet later came the lords of Mizpeh, pressed 
 
 By the fierce Ammonite who claimed the land 
 
 By ancient right secured, and threatened high 
 
 To thrust them forth, as I by them compelled. 
 
 Hence me they chose their leader, much dismayed 
 
 By dire compulsion, and confirmed their choice 
 
 Before the altar in the sacred grove 
 
 In presence of the oracle and priest — 
 
 Also by God confirmed; and from him given 
 
 Victory assured, strength from on high vouchsafed 
 
 Upon our enemy and fierce oppressor, 
 
 To overcome his brute tyrannic power 
 
 And rescue Israel from the Ammonite, 
 
 That proud insulting foe, who dared presume 
 
 Against the people of God, but soon discerned 
 
 Far otherwise, in broken flight dismayed. 
 
 With all his power infringed. For, parting soon, 
 
 I upon them dread execution wreaked 
 
 For disregarded right and broken faith, 
 
 Leaving them blank of joy and blank of boast. 
 
 Who in their arrogance had thus presumed 
 
 To assert themselves and gods over our own. 
 
 And now, from victory turned, I come to claim 
 
 That just desert to rule, my right assured 
 
 By our dread lords pronounced, secure in hopes. 
 
 And long in this fair land secure to dwell. 
 
 Of happiness assured, of peace, of joy. 
 
 But one doubt yet remains, lest that rash vow 
 
 Infatuate, which I took at setting forth. 
 
 Some danger draw, or trouble, which my days 
 
 Knew never until now. Yet why despair, 
 
 Or waver? Doubtless ill cannot befall 
 
 After such good received, fair premonition 
 
 And flattery to my hope, thus fair achieved. 
 
 But if the future aught of trouble hold, 
 
 Or danger, which the time hath yet concealed. 
 
 He, who hath guided still my steps aright. 
 
 Dispel it, as the darkness now the day. 
 
 Cho. Mighty the works of God, 
 And marvellous his wondrous ways, 
 
 [6] 
 
That well his power declare, whose glorious deeds 
 Display his gracious favor shown divine! 
 
 Semi-Cho, Nor least, when came the river-dragon 
 proud 
 From Egypt after Israel, though sore tamed 
 By prodigies of portent, grievous signs 
 Afflictive, which his spirit compelled ; but he. 
 Despite such wonders shown. 
 And wrath of God provoked, 
 By whom himself proudly he durst compare, 
 With rallied hopes perfidious elevate. 
 Hardened his heart, more hardened as by thaw 
 Obdurate ice, pursuing 
 Them in his anger whom his promise gave 
 To part in safety assured. 
 
 But him the sea withstood, and mustering fierce 
 On his embattled war. 
 As in despite his feigned omnipotence, 
 Swallowed him with his host, 
 And whelmed them in its waves. 
 
 Semi-cho. Nor otherwise, when Israel fought of old 
 In Joshua's conduct, and in sky stood still, 
 Midway in heaven, the sun. 
 And moon her wonted course adjourned. 
 The voice of man commanding, till his foes 
 Israel o'ercame. 
 
 Semi-cho. Nor less his power appeared, when Sisera's 
 might. 
 Presumptuous, fought to enslave 
 God's people chosen, and his deity like despised ; 
 But, joined in battle fierce, learned other thoughts 
 And meaner hopes conceived, 
 Safety and peace in flight, which death denied. 
 For him the stars of heaven in fight withstood, 
 And Kishon's wave, that ancient river, rolled. 
 Swallowed them, when from heaven 
 Strange fire and direful hail and lightnings, mixed 
 With blackness and with tempest, fiercely fell 
 On that proud host confused, 
 
 [7] 
 
And as in anger consumed 
 
 The fierce insulting foe, 
 
 Whom earth, opening her mouth, in aid devoured. 
 
 And whelmed their war. 
 
 Semi-cho. Nor lastly Chemosh, Ammon's fear obscene, 
 More dread or potent. 
 When he fondly matched 
 
 His fierce presumptuous might with Israel's God, 
 Whose arm of power displayed 
 Enforced hard vengeance, 
 When the strength of Israel pierced 
 Their utmost battle drawn ; 
 Nor stayed, but spread the slaughtering pestilence 
 And the consuming sickness of the land. 
 Till twenty cities, of their country chief 
 Daughters esteemed, and prime. 
 From Aroer to Minnith's frontier plains. 
 Beneath the avenging force of war's dread stroke 
 Bowed captive, or, worse fate, ascended all 
 In flame and smoke to heaven. 
 
 Semi-cho. Thee, Jephtha, then I praise, unconquer- 
 able. 
 Mightiest, our first of men. 
 Whose prowest deeds performed. 
 Not less than thy prevailing argument. 
 Enforced the Ammonite in that hard contest 
 To flight or death. 
 Whence Minnith mourns, 
 And Aroer, with all that region round, 
 The battle's rued attempt and dire event. 
 That cost so many of their chiefest sons. 
 And quelled their pride. 
 
 Semi-cho, Where shall I first extol 
 Thy deeds and matchless might? 
 The wonder of thy nation, and the boast. 
 When on the Ammonite, our dreaded enemy. 
 Confusion fell and horrible dismay. 
 Erst undismayed, now reft, surprised, amazed. 
 When, as the lightning glimpse. 
 Under thy conduct Mizpeh's sons thrust forth 
 
 [8] 
 
In fierce pursuing bands 
 
 Upon his dreadless ranks and broken war. 
 
 Cho. Yet softly; for behold where yonder comes 
 One as with grief surcharged and fraught with woe, 
 O'erburdened sore; for such his mien infers 
 Depressed and sad. 
 
 Whence in his look, fallen and damp, appears 
 Some recent grief, perhaps; or what imports 
 Sorrow at this glad time, when all rejoice? 
 
 Serv. Companions to this house, for such infer 
 Both your attendance and regardful mien, 
 Say if ye aught by sight or word have gained. 
 If gone from hence, or stayed, or harboring near. 
 Of both my master and your friend, great Jephtha? 
 
 Cho. Nothing we know in aught, by accident 
 Obtained, or purpose; hither only come 
 To greet our champion, wondering much to learn 
 Him gone we hoped to find. But now relate 
 Why thus with anxious inquiry thou comest 
 Asking of us, whom like intent hath brought? 
 
 Serv. Ah, friends, if truly told what grief I bear, 
 I fear lest evil words may wound too deep. 
 
 Cho. Set forth thy tidings, whatsoever gained. 
 Since grief withheld more pains than what imparted. 
 
 Serv. Look not for happy tidings, deemed perhaps. 
 Sequel of victory, as might befit 
 Glad issue of success in fair event; 
 Rather expect to hear the heaviest evil. 
 The most with grief, most sorrowful, that ever 
 Could have befallen us — nor less importing 
 Than harm of him by whom we stand, our champion 
 And first of men. For now great Jephtha, come 
 Home to his father's house, secure of joy. 
 And wished-for welcome waiting, passed the doors. 
 And scarcely yet had passed them, when behold 
 A horror! she, his daughter, first in view, 
 A bevy of fair maids accompanying 
 
 [9] 
 
In dance, with charming song and chiming harp, 
 Met in the doors him entering, to greet 
 Her sire's rejoiced return. But he that sight 
 Far otherwise received, in pallid fear, 
 Stricken with terror. Backward he recoiled 
 And bowed and groaning shook, as bows and shakes 
 The forest oak with tempest ; then essayed, 
 Sore-tossed with grief, and thrice in vain, to speak. 
 And thrice, despite of manly shame, burst forth 
 In tears and sighs — at last gained utterance thus: 
 Alas, my daughter, thou hast brought me low, 
 And sore with grief hast troubled. I have sworn 
 To God ; that fatal oath cannot recall. 
 Though it import no less than death to thee. 
 To me destruction, in thy loss destroyed. 
 But she returned : As thou hast sworn, perform ; 
 Behold me. For thy honor and thy vow 
 Gladly I die, so offered ; since to me 
 To die is as to live, for that dear sake 
 By which I now am living. Horror first 
 And horrid silence fell at what might mean, 
 With sorrow new and sudden grief so strange, 
 A speech so strange vouched with reply so strange ; 
 But no long silence; for that direful vow. 
 All unremembered but for such event, 
 One spoke, with look askance, as much afraid ; 
 And soon from mouth to mouth the rumor ran, 
 Yet ventured none aloud. Her maidens then, 
 Scarce from surprise revived, gave signs of grief. 
 But them she checked with gentle voice, and bade 
 None for her weep; and all who thronged the place 
 Spoke cheerfully to, both menial in the house, 
 Or free without, nor aught in face or voice 
 Gave sign of sorrow, only last withdrew 
 Into a chamber to await command. 
 Her father's ordering. Neither Jephtha stayed, 
 Thus desperate with grief and quite deject; 
 But rushing out of doors, sought only surcease 
 Of pain, in thoughts divided, sore distressed. 
 The saddest sight, most sorrowful, that ever 
 Man saw, most pitiful; nor since was seen 
 Of any; whence my mission to discern 
 
 [to] 
 
His place and posture, whether thus distraught 
 He seek some violent way. But how shall end 
 This direful day, or how fall out the event, 
 None may surmise, and all despair to think. 
 
 Cho. Doubtful the ways of man. 
 And doubtfully his life ordained, 
 Though still with graces eminently given 
 And high perfections adorned. 
 Created fair, conformity divine. 
 For upon him God's purpose high appears 
 To good, as oft, yet soon with heavier hand 
 And altered face his weightier doom he sends, 
 With no respect, as seems, 
 To sufferings past grievous endured, 
 Or heavier yet inflictions. 
 
 Oft with distresses dire, or poverty. 
 Ambition's curb, depressed. 
 And maladies of grievous kinds. 
 Joint-racking agonies, or torturing qualms 
 Afl3ictive, wasting pestilence 
 And slaughtering famine, all consuming ills. 
 Till life is worse pronounced than death, that comes 
 The cure of all life's evil, and the balm. 
 
 If these escaped, perhaps by dire afliictions, 
 Within him or without, man's life oppressed; 
 Fell hate of kind, or worse ingratitude. 
 Fiercer than body's ill. 
 Madness of secret mind, presumption fond 
 Drawing the direful wrath of God, 
 All fiercest accidents 
 
 Which on man's spirits prey and inmost mind. 
 That life no less a burdenous weight becomes. 
 Till death, a glad relief, alike reprieves. 
 
 Yet some, ordained, by high election chosen 
 And solemn choice, escape 
 Those grievous ills of being, 
 Remote from all the anxious cares of life. 
 Fulfilled with bliss. 
 
 Not therefore praised as wholly good, nor banned 
 As wholly bane, this mortal lot ; the end. 
 Doubtful, of all determines. 
 
 [II] 
 
But see ! for yonder, sought in haste, 
 Great Jephtha comes, as much depressed with grief 
 And spent with sorrow ; now, in halt. 
 Stands like a blasted pine, by thunder scathed, 
 Its beauty withered ; hither bends 
 His steps, as toward us bound ; with honor due 
 Prepare forthwith to receive him. 
 
 Jephtha. I heard the sound of voices, which the sense 
 Of hearing, gross with grief, forbade to know. 
 
 Cho. Let us approach. Jephtha, our country's boast. 
 Not mindless of thy sorrow are we met 
 By thy unlooked approach, if aught in words 
 To solace and console thee ; or if deeds, 
 Apt to thy malady, we may bring forth. 
 Thy comfort deemed, our better office found. 
 
 Jephtha. Ye see, O comrades, what a net of ills 
 Hath closed me round ; and, what my worst affliction. 
 Myself have drawn, myself the ruin caused. 
 Who but myself, in heedless arrogance. 
 Thus impiously and weakly hath brought on me 
 Both my own sorrow and my household's ruin? 
 How shall I m.ore look up, or lift my head. 
 Who have shipwracked on pride and high presumption, 
 Thus heedless, wrecked my hopes whereon I built 
 Both my own glory and honor of my name. 
 And lastly drawn derision of my foes? 
 How shall not all who hear pronounce me punished 
 Justly for that presumption which asserted 
 Myself secure of future, and fondly ruined 
 My fair desert? How ill becomes me now 
 That honor high, to have received salute 
 Of judge in Israel! Rather will all approve 
 The just reward (O folly!) of my weakness, 
 And on my name merited curses heap 
 With obloquy, yet rightly to my shame. 
 
 Cho. Despair not, Jephtha; greater cause have all. 
 And disposition like, to ease thy burden, 
 Who from the fiery Ammonite hath delivered them 
 
 [12] 
 
And raised them up to be once more a nation, 
 Though near destroyed, no less a mighty champion 
 And worthy no less fame and high desert 
 Than all who erst, in siege or foughten field, 
 Have borne the honor great and name of judge, 
 Barak and Othniel, Gideon, famous found. 
 Not then entire deject. Perhaps some way 
 May yet be found, though now thou deeply liest 
 In much despair (and reason, as thou seest) 
 Rightly to do thy vow, and still preserve 
 Thy daughter to thy life inviolate. 
 
 Jephtha. Urge me not thus ; that way impiety lies, 
 And hate toward Heaven, with judgment worse pro- 
 nounced. 
 The oath I swore, though rash, infatuate, 
 I will perform, as reason Is, obeying 
 Heaven's purpose manifest to punish justly 
 My wTak presumptuous sin, that sought my honor 
 Only, not God's. Other now to attempt 
 Would not escape my guilt nor slacken thus 
 What solemn contract binds to offer up 
 In sacrifice my daughter, rather draw 
 Not less a greater stroke on me, and her. 
 For whose dear loss I mourn, not more reprieve. 
 
 Cho. Consider, Jephtha, that in evil case 
 Thou stand this day, either to sacrifice 
 Thy daughter, which thy vow strictly enjoins, 
 Abhorred by all who hear, and thus thyself 
 (No less!) expose to calumny and hate, 
 The people's wrath ; or else thou must forego 
 That predetermined oath and vow engaged, 
 With recompense upon thy head returned. 
 The will of Heaven. Reckon the greater evil, 
 To spill thy daughter's blood, which Heaven forbids. 
 Or else forego what thou to Heaven engaged'st 
 Unratified by counsel or by wisdom. 
 Hence thou hast need all circumspection use, 
 And we no less choice in advice ; for thus 
 On what thou doest this day, or undone leavest. 
 The weight of all and all thy hope depends. 
 
 [13] 
 
Jephtha. I cannot, friends, deny this vow, thoug! 
 fondly 
 Before engaged, and to my sorrow fulfilled ; 
 Nor can I deem, though all deplore the loss, 
 That any will oppose my weak attempt 
 To Its fulfilling, sad though It be and hard^ 
 Questioning thus my right of father had 
 To do what with my own my right assures. 
 But how shall I suffice thus to perform. 
 Or how again but to behold her face 
 Endure, with joy and rapture so oft beheld? 
 Whose hand but mine, or whose permissive will. 
 Shall destroy In her my own life, not deemed 
 Thus given to be destroyed? But right compels, 
 And justice, what I must, though loth, perform, 
 
 Cho. Thy daughter Is thy daughter, and thy right 
 Thy right ; do therefore with her as thou wilt. 
 None questions here thy power, and least do we; 
 But pondered If some better way found out 
 Both to fulfil and to escape thy vow 
 Grievous engaged, yet In thy power to do. 
 Sore must It be and hard, I bear thee witness. 
 To lose her fairest, since first the sons of earth 
 Saw the daughters of men that they were fair 
 None fairer; neither In the common way 
 Of death deplored, as by the will of Heaven 
 Removed, and mourned, but still the stain escaped 
 Of blood, which on thy hands If used must show 
 Not guiltless; nor thy loss pronounced alone. 
 Her death, but deemed the woeful fee of grief 
 Common to us and all who here Inhabit. 
 And how art thou of courage found enough 
 To do this deed, the death of thy own child. 
 Horrid to hear, more horrible to see. 
 Much more, performed by thee, her source and head? 
 
 Jephtha. Alas, what now avail my hopes conceived, 
 Honor In Israel and name assured. 
 Which these high honors assure. 
 Already now achieved, thus chosen late 
 And judge ordained In Israel? How In my seed 
 
 [14] 
 
Shall stand my nation blest, 
 
 If this repenting hand 
 
 Destroy my issue sole and single hope 
 
 Of all posterity? the bitter doom 
 
 By which my spirit depressed. 
 
 Why was that choice of head and captain laid 
 On me, not seeking, and assurance given 
 Of victory upon my enemies. 
 
 And thus achieved, my chiefest hope once deemed 
 And pathway to my good thus fair assured? 
 Yet now alas, forsaken 
 By God, abandoned, afflicted. 
 That yoke of woe, which I had reft 
 From off my nation, 
 I now must feel, 
 Who for my one default 
 Shall thus pay on that forfeit bad, adjudged 
 To my own act perverse ; 
 Whence faintings of despair, 
 And swoonings of the spirit overcome 
 By fear of Heaven's defection. 
 
 Cho. Thy woes afflictive bring into my mind 
 How others famous else have like endured 
 Calamity; great Abraham first. 
 Most like to thee in trial, but his faith 
 Him saved ; and others, patient Job 
 Thus memorable, who bore the utmost stroke 
 Of fortune ill ; undaunted Gideon, 
 Though him ingratitude from those he freed. 
 At Succoth and the tower of Penuel, 
 Oppressed, and death of kindred. 
 
 Yet these through grievous woes deliverance won, 
 Or faith delivered; whence like hopeful lot 
 For thee my presage, tested thus, 
 By worst afflictions tried. 
 
 The high intent of Heaven to prove what means 
 He for himself ordains. 
 And rightly chosen thence, if haply found 
 Fit for his mighty purpose. 
 
 But now I see draw nigh. 
 With altered face disordered 
 
 [15] 
 
And garb as discomposed, 
 The wonted signs of grief, thy wife. 
 Whose purpose here intends; upon her brow 
 A cloud of sorrow hangs, and in her look 
 Not found submission meek, as like resigned 
 With thee in purpose; but, if I aread 
 Signs of regard aright, far opposite 
 Found to thy vow performed ; consider well 
 How here thy purpose thou boldest. 
 
 Mara. With grief of heart and sorrow have I come, 
 Jephtha, to hear from thy own mouth what thou 
 Intend'st on her, our daughter; since report 
 Avers that for thy vow infatuate 
 Thou wilt exact in recompense her life 
 And us bereave our hope — not in my thoughts 
 That thou couldst thus determine, who hast held 
 Ever, and boldest still, thy daughter endeared. 
 Deny this rumor then, as right and meet, 
 And us relieve from grief, which but to think 
 Compels my spirit, doubtless thus as thine. 
 But, after question asked thus plain express. 
 Why keep'st thou silence guarded and constrained ; 
 And why do these bend thus their questioning look 
 Only on thee, or stand with sorrowed mien. 
 Gazing upon each other without speech? 
 
 Jephtha. Would I could thus deny, and quite annul 
 Purpose of me supposed! How gladly rather 
 Would I lay down this life, thus spent with grief. 
 If by this laying down hers were reprieved! 
 But that cannot avail, nor could our prayers. 
 Weak as our breath breathed forth against the wind ; 
 Since truth and faith and vow engaged compel me 
 To do what yet in doing I abhor. 
 
 Mara., Then, if thou her shalt not enough regard, 
 Regard thy wife, even me, who suing come 
 To thee for mercy, whom the ties of love 
 Constrain to hear, and to consider well 
 What now thou doest, ere too late achieved 
 Thy own destruction and thy lasting shame 
 
 [i6] 
 
Surely esteemed, with hate of all drawn on thee, 
 Who hear thy deed. Should not my prayers avail. 
 Who brought her forth in pangs and travail sore 
 Whom now thou slayest? Harden not thus thy heart 
 Against my prayers, nor disregard my tears, 
 Which here thou seest, but esteem thy wife. 
 And grant this only to her proffered wish 
 Whom thou hast still professed loved and endeared. 
 
 Jephtha. Not as unwrought by sorrow have I refused. 
 And still refuse, thy entreaty, though refusal 
 Found hard, and doubly hard that purpose found; 
 For with myself I war, and half my heart 
 Aids thee, against my will. Yet I not well 
 Become myself or this authority 
 But late on me bestowed, if I should leave 
 To do what purposed right, with fond and partial 
 Feeling swayed thus, who should by judgment rule. 
 Not weakly by affection be o'ercome. 
 Or feeling, which with judgment have no place. 
 Hence, as before my plea, I still must plead 
 Necessity and truth and faith engaged. 
 Which thus compel me to a deed esteemed 
 Evil perhaps by thee, desirable 
 Not to myself, who still, though loth, must do. 
 
 Mara. I see the natural ties, that wont to bind, 
 In thee are slack, but those may still be found 
 That stronglier bind, authority, opinion 
 Of others, strong compulsive force that governs 
 Even him who rules. Me mayest thou disregard 
 As weak, and her, whom love should teach regard; 
 But popular will expressed and commonalty 
 Of thought in deeds put forth may well constrain thee 
 To some regard. Bethink thy office new. 
 In which the state of order settled yet 
 But little, with regard but little grown 
 And new authority, shall little stead 
 To succor or avail thee, once aroused 
 The people, who esteem thy daughter well ; 
 Against their force stands not authority; 
 That bond may break in use, and weakly leave thee 
 
 [17] 
 
Exposed to wrath of those who now revere. 
 Easily is the people overcome 
 By change against its idol, if too far 
 Presumption carried — thou no less in danger, 
 They in the present need and circumstance 
 Unmanageable, ungovernable, unquenchable. 
 
 Jephtha. I like esteem thy threats, thus idly vented, 
 Of people's vengeance wreaked, as once I weighed 
 Thy tears, of value less are they accounted. 
 Me they deter not, though its utmost wrath 
 The people wakes, my purpose once assured. 
 But other bonds there are thou hast not mentioned 
 Of honor, faith, obedience, religion. 
 And duty; these constrain, or should, much more 
 Than nature's, oft proved false. These still compel 
 Me to my vow performed ; nor shall I slack 
 What bands on me constrain — so only find 
 All bands that bind relaxed, and that true fear. 
 Whereon stands government, no longer found. 
 This is true government, where he who rules 
 Serves whom he rules, and each one rules himself 
 By serving all; which is the highest good. 
 Desist thy purpose then, and me relieve 
 From importunity, which only worsens 
 What pain I feel. Though yet, despite of that, 
 Or worse that may be felt, I shall perform, 
 And to the score exact, my vow secured. 
 
 Mara. Speak not of truth and faith, if still that 
 purpose 
 Thou boldest, to deprive thy daughter life, 
 That vow presumptuous sworn. For how can faith 
 Or truth impel thee on, or vow enforce thee. 
 To do what law forbids? That great command, 
 Do thou no murder, how shalt thou escape, 
 If thou perform what God forbids express? 
 What monster art thou, what enormity 
 Of man, rather what worse than brutish beast. 
 Not man, if thy unfaithful faith impel thee 
 Basely to profit by thy daughter's death. 
 Like him the heathen feign devoured his children? 
 
 [i8] 
 
How shalt thou stand to all posterity 
 Defamed and pointed for a heinous crime 
 Inhuman, base pronounced ; not less thy name 
 Than Cain's abhorred, who for his bloody deed 
 Heard the stern curse of God on him pronounced: 
 Thy brother s blood cries to me from the ground 
 For vengeance. Nor less thine than his the stain 
 Of hateful murder, odious to all time. 
 
 Jephtha. Forbear thy words ! nor further thus provoke 
 My sorrow, already now enough provoked. 
 For should I, as I do, melt at thy grief 
 And sore affliction, what could that avail. 
 Or succor? Wrong sufficient have I done. 
 And must not greater add; for so should I 
 Not only not escape, nor her dear life 
 Reprieve, (which to reprieve my own I gladly 
 Would spare) with faith and vow basely profaned 
 Thus impiously and weakly, but meet far worse 
 Destruction, daughter of a broken oath. 
 
 Mara. Thou durst not thus, against the laws of nature 
 And laws of God, offer thy daughter's life 
 In base fulfilment of thy heinous vow 
 Fond, rash, infatuate, so but to add 
 The greater sin, thus in religion's name 
 To do what still by God express forbidden. 
 Except some madness fierce had seized thy mind, 
 Or worse depravity, which my intent 
 Shall be to master or defeat, preventing 
 This basest of all deeds, abominable. 
 Detestable, and gross, though thou to cloak 
 Thy wickedness adorn'st it with the name 
 Of honor, faith, obedience, and religion. 
 
 Jephtha. That way destruction lies, to gloze and 
 smooth 
 The laws of God to our especial need, 
 Made only in uprightness and in truth. 
 Thus, by fulfilling some and some denying 
 Fulfilment, to draw guilt of all commands 
 Broken and neglected, as thou now beholdest 
 
 [19] 
 
In Israel, where God is not revered, 
 
 But Baal and Ashtoreth receive his honor 
 
 Whose strength Israel upholds; yet they, perverse, 
 
 Worship the works of their own hands in wood 
 
 And stone. Shall I weakly obey the flesh 
 
 That cries against this vow, or God consider, 
 
 Thus in that vow revered, or, worse than those 
 
 Who only Baal adore, and Ashtoreth, 
 
 The w^ork only of men, worship myself 
 
 And corrupt flesh, thus full of lusts and sins? 
 
 The greater sin than yet in Israel known. 
 
 Mara. I saw how still thy circling pretense closed 
 In feigned religion, smooth hypocrisy. 
 The wont of all who plead necessity 
 To basest deeds, and in that error do 
 Evil, that good may come, but find instead 
 That evil follows evil, offspring bad 
 Of parent ill, nor in its course disjoins 
 Or lessens, rather but increases still 
 The sum of evil found. Yet this thy plea, 
 Though wrong, but thou depravest it with the name 
 Of justice, truth, and right, so to escape 
 Shame on thyself of deeds by thee performed. 
 To please thy God thou doest it, that his glory 
 And praise may grow. But know zeal for thy God, 
 Consumes thy house; and Moloch is thy God, 
 That grisly monster, Ammon's vile pollution. 
 Whose horrid sacrifice of human blood, 
 Performed with timbrels loud, and parents' tears. 
 Whose children pass through fire, hath still provoked 
 Their ill who offer thus, and like the wrath 
 Of Israel's God, whom mercy rather pleases. 
 And care for life, by him bestowed, not thence 
 Lightly or easily, as thus, bereft. 
 Or dost thou then esteem thyself a god 
 To give or take away, as good appears. 
 The life thou gavest not? A base presumption, 
 An impious pretense, which thy words aver. 
 Yet more thy act, if thou, as I shall doubt. 
 Will venture to the utmost of thy vow. 
 Let mercy rather sway thee ; and consider 
 
 [20] 
 
That promises thus made in wanton mind, 
 Heedless and careless, do not firm constrain. 
 But worthily are broken, and no blame 
 Attached to him whose error fondly passed 
 What better wisdom breaks. Let this assure thee, 
 And thou the rather spare thy daughter's life 
 Thou gavest not, nor should take; and thus redeem 
 Thee from destruction, where thy purpose tends, 
 And me from grief relieve, who wretched plead. 
 
 Jephtha. Thou neither dost compel me by reproaches, 
 Nor by thy tears persuade, that I should leave 
 My purpose, which I still have firmly held, 
 Despite what yet of weight thou hast borne against; 
 Rather the more confirmed, the more I see 
 What argument thou choosest to oppose 
 My will, though sad, now fixed. Desist thy task 
 To alter, or subvert, or undermine. 
 My fast determination not to yield, 
 But still perform, that all in Israel 
 May see that some still rather choose to do 
 Right, though against desire, and still approve 
 To honor God, whom most have still dishonored 
 And disobeyed. Forbear thy purpose, then ; 
 Thy labor is but lost, which now thou usest. 
 
 Mara. In all disputes with men the woman still 
 Obtains the worse, how fair her argument. 
 
 Jephtha. But not for lack of breath or stifiF persistence 
 Of purpose; let this present instance witness. 
 
 Mara. Wilt thou then still perform, as now averring? 
 
 Jephtha. No less esteem; since plain by God enjoined. 
 
 Mara. Bethink thyself; this may invite thy ruin. 
 
 Jephtha. Bethink myself? my sense of justice rather 
 And mind's approval, conscience, duty, reason! 
 Canst thou esteem me so by grief compelled, 
 As honor to desert and inward peace, 
 
 [21] 
 
Thus to excuse myself from task found Irksome? 
 
 So to betray that trust by God enjoined 
 
 Of judge in Israel called, whose office given 
 
 Should rather me persuade to disregard 
 
 All claims of kindred, all the wonted bonds 
 
 Of friendship and affection, than to abuse 
 
 The power I have, what but to prostitute 
 
 My sacred honor basely to desire. 
 
 Mine or another's. No; my mind is fixed. 
 
 And all my powers are settled and assured 
 
 To do this deed, and to oppose thy plea 
 
 Thus specious, shallow, partial, irreligious, 
 
 Savoring of fear to man ; which should I hear. 
 
 How should I not obey the voice of man, 
 
 God's disregarded, and he liked despised. 
 
 Dishonored, and displeased? Which thus I will not. 
 
 Mara. I thought to have won thee from thyself, and 
 gained 
 Advantage to her good. But now I find 
 That thou as dear esteem'st thy dastard life 
 As hers thou boldest cheap. But if avail 
 Community of life and neighborhood, 
 Or if the natural ties that join mankind 
 Shall in this region bide, thou may'st not yet 
 Exult entirely, nor I all despair; 
 Which now I go to prove, and think to find 
 Others, who no degree or nearness trace 
 In blood related, or affinity. 
 More faithful to those ties that birth begets 
 Than thou, who thus despisest nature's bond. 
 
 Cho, Despair not thus entire deliverance, Jephtha; 
 But rather think that God will find some way. 
 Accordant with his purpose, to reprieve 
 The sad intent thou hast, colleaguing so 
 Mercy with justice joined, if thou prove faithful 
 And hold out firm, until enough performed 
 To show thy faith sufficient and obedience 
 Amply expressed. Doubtless this favor high 
 God will vouchsafe at need, and free thee quite 
 From thy fond vow thou mad'st, thus unadvised, 
 
 [22] 
 
With grievous end. Perhaps thy daughter's life 
 God will redeem, as once was Abraham's son's, 
 After this trial of thy faith, though sore, 
 And testing hard; be thou of equal trust. 
 
 Jephtha. By miracle he may; yet not presumed 
 Interposition thus will be vouchsafed, 
 As once to Abraham w^as, who sacrificed 
 His son to God, obeying that command, 
 Though hard and difficult; but faith delivered 
 And wrought escape unthought. Yet not to me 
 This mercy, since in me no faithfulness 
 Was found, or firm regard for truth, but lightness 
 Of soul impelled, and reckless disregard 
 Of law and right; this other found excuse 
 And vindication, since his trial had 
 And tested fortitude proved him sincere 
 To do the will of God, who him approved 
 And blest. But me no like desert shall find. 
 Since I myself provoked w^hat loss I feel 
 Already, though in apprehension only; 
 Which I shall not escape, even fulfilled. 
 
 Cho. Consider, Jephtha, that in times past God 
 Hath for his people wonders wrought; what now 
 Forbids belief? His power and might we know 
 Are limitless, and still his purpose holds 
 To good, as ever, on his chosen people, 
 Of whom thee not the least I now account. 
 Not therefore last to be esteemed and honored 
 By God, who hath his gracious favor given 
 To thee, his servant great and judge ordained. 
 That special honor shown thee warrants well 
 Expectancy and hope; nor should'st thou waver. 
 Or faint, that God will to thy special honor 
 And in thy special need deliverance send ; 
 Which would be to deny and doubt his power. 
 Or question and blaspheme his goodness still. 
 The Holy One of Israel and our God. 
 
 Jephtha. Not thus to me my anxious mind portends, 
 Though gladly hope would here subscribe belief. 
 
 [ 23 ] 
 
The miracles thou mentionest wrought of old 
 
 Were for obedience, duty, faith, submission, 
 
 Not for unthinking disregard of God, 
 
 Denial of his right, and usurpation 
 
 In this great stead. No; I have sinned away 
 
 That grace, and now thus fond must never hope 
 
 Deliverance or relief; hopeless my evils, 
 
 Remediless, beyond all thought of cure. 
 
 Only remains that I repent sincere 
 
 My error and my crime, that have provoked 
 
 Justly thus punishment, and God absolve 
 
 (What can I less with right regard and truth?) 
 
 From blame and from dispraise, which all to me 
 
 Belong; to me, sole cause of all my ills. 
 
 Cho. I cannot like thy thoughts, that thus would limit 
 God's mercy or his power, deemed by some 
 Treasonable to him perhaps, distasteful, faithless. 
 Impious and disloyal; but to thee 
 Accord thy right of thought, attributing 
 All to thy faith sincere, and to thy conscience 
 Leave thee, to blame or to approve. But still 
 One doubt remains, if in thy single right 
 And of thy sole impulsion to perform 
 Deed so untoward well deemed. Perhaps the people. 
 Ever ungoverned, unmanageable, heady, 
 And most where use and custom thought infringed, 
 Will not conform, or suffer here thy purpose, 
 So strange esteemed. How wilt thou then come off, 
 Alone against them raging and provoked? 
 Perhaps some direful vengeance they may take 
 On thee, or quite in wrath defeat thy purpose 
 Once known, which well thy wife by this hath opened. 
 On thee, presumed to have aroused just ire 
 Of Heaven, and God's command impiously abused, 
 Thus fond. Bethink thee then whereon thou stand. 
 
 Jephtha. I held no purpose to consider greatly 
 Others' opinion had, with like regard 
 Despised both people's wrath and tried prevention. 
 My counsel once made sure. Where duty bids. 
 The good little esteem the weight attaching 
 
 [24] 
 
To censure or approval, satisfied 
 
 With what deemed right performed. What then should I 
 
 Or fear or apprehend censure or reproach, 
 
 Or worse, if worse be tried, thus armed alike 
 
 With innocence and purity intended 
 
 Of purpose, though deemed perverse? Which this great 
 
 office 
 Might, if need were, and public service done, 
 Excuse or palliate, perhaps, in me 
 What thus in others not. But who so wise, 
 Counselled, discreet, principled, reasoned, wary, 
 As not advice regards, oft meets the ill 
 Which he would most avoid. The mind of man 
 Is ever prone to error, found no less 
 Fallible than human. Nor would I assert 
 Myself above my right, though here no question 
 Esteemed, debate. But lest a doubt remain 
 Either of my due right or valid oath, 
 I will abroad unto the lords, and seek 
 Whether, as now employs some minds in doubt. 
 Authority thus hold of father's right 
 And duty; thence assured, not much need fear 
 What men shall do or say, intent thus right. 
 
 Cho. Doubtful the works of God 
 And doubtfully his ways ordained. 
 Allotting oft contrary in his purpose 
 To what of right esteemed ; 
 Esteemed by man, whose blinded counsel sees 
 Not wisely the event and purpose aimed; 
 Oft therefore sore perplexed with doubt if good 
 Triumph, or evil, distressed 
 With fear of ill victorious 
 And good o'ercome, as vanquished. 
 Yet in the end discerned what justice high 
 Guides all to good and benefit of man. 
 
 God had not else, except with taint of sin, 
 Not consonant with his purity avowed 
 And his high will decreed. 
 Permitted this heroic Gileadite, 
 Against our law express and God's declared, 
 To take his daughter's life, 
 
 [ 25 ] 
 
Except that bond of strictest vow 
 
 Secured his faith, constrained 
 
 To serve some purpose best and highest end ; 
 
 Though yet may he avert, 
 
 If in his mighty purpose 
 
 And counsel high ordained. 
 
 Such trial from his servant 
 
 And champion chosen express; 
 
 Though, if he else decree, 
 
 His purpose still shall vindicate his name. 
 
 But see! for yonder comes with tranquil step 
 Great Jephtha's daughter, beauteous well pronounced. 
 Fairest of woman born. 
 Though beauty last in her be seen, 
 Of soul all heavenly seeming. 
 Honor in her looks expressed, love in her mien. 
 Submissive, meek, and pure. 
 In every gesture dignity and peace; 
 By me and by all others justly shown 
 The best of daughters living. 
 
 Miriam. Elders and men of Mizpeh, I am come 
 Thus hastily, against what held perhaps 
 Custom and use in woman, unattended, 
 Because by some averred, and to me brought. 
 That counsel given, or influence, to prevent 
 Fulfilment of that vow by God enjoined 
 Upon my father; which my purpose holds 
 To accomplish, and from him all peril draw 
 From whom I have to live, so to discharge 
 Only my debt, as meet, and nature's bond. 
 
 Cho. Thy purpose well thy duteous love declares 
 And courage beyond thought in thee expressed 
 More than belief to woman's fear accords, 
 And custom. But perhaps, since not accomplished. 
 Averted yet that cruel lot, by me, 
 As by all others, justly held abhorred. 
 And now In time thou comest to share with us 
 What hope we have of favorable import 
 With good success to see thy free deliverance. 
 For with thy mother's asking wrought in counsel, 
 
 [26] 
 
Thy father now is parted to the lords, 
 To find if any hope perhaps remain 
 To set thee free, and yet regard his vow 
 That claimed thy sacrifice. If these favorably 
 Advise to thy release (what can they else?) 
 Undoubtedly he will relent, and leave 
 His purpose, grievous, yet by him accounted 
 Compulsive. Hence no more thy thoughts afflict 
 With fear of death, but rather summon hope 
 (Hope still remains, that still remains to all), 
 Hope of thy safety, of deliverance. 
 In which all we, as fits, participate. 
 
 Miriam. Thy words are not ungrateful, and accord 
 With pleasant thoughts, yet reckoned prophecy 
 Untrue ; since thoughts of life to me are sweet, 
 That life with manifold delights by me 
 Once hoped, with husband's love and children's given. 
 Nuptial endearments sweet, enjoyment fair 
 Bestowed; not hated, then, the life I leave. 
 Left willingly for whose dear sake I spare 
 All this of life, and life itself forego. 
 That he may well fulfil God's purpose high 
 In him expressed, and I his will in me; 
 My one desire and counsel sole approved. , 
 
 Cho. Desire of life, and therewith life's delight. 
 Which every soul constrains, and therefore thee. 
 Thou canst forego, and rather dare to choose 
 Death, if to save thy honor. But perhaps 
 Thy honor not involved in this, as deemed. 
 Despair not utterly thy life confessed 
 To thee endeared, nor quite forego all hope 
 Of safety yet secured. Others have stood 
 In like ill case, and yet the worst escaped. 
 Through God's great sufferance for the faith of man; 
 Perhaps by miracle he may deliver 
 Thy life, and thee preserve, as Abraham's son 
 Once to his sire preserved, whom firm obedience 
 Delivered from the stain of crime performed. 
 His son's destruction, and at last reprieved 
 With blood of victim given. Despair not thou. 
 
 [27] 
 
Miriam. He can, I grant, perform as thou maintainest, 
 To doubt which well were folly, or inquire; 
 His power, by frequent miracles averred, 
 Commanded nurture in the wilderness 
 For Israel wandering, so to spare their lives 
 And his high glory augment, his purpose great ; 
 Manna from heaven rained down, and water gushed 
 From the dry rock; which mighty wonders shown, 
 With others more, attested well that path 
 By flights of angels ministrant attended. 
 And others, patriarchs, prophets, holy men 
 And women, have his power experienced like. 
 No question then of his omnipotence. 
 But his intent in this, if I shall scape 
 The death adjudged, or that strict vow fulfil. 
 Yet whether thus or no, I am resigned 
 To what by Heaven allotted ; nor in this 
 Folly to God impute, nor blame to man ; 
 None to myself, if I shall well endure 
 To bear his will in me performed, my purpose 
 And one intent. No other aim I seek 
 Than to fulfil God's purpose and intent 
 In me vouchsafed. Living or dying, I serve 
 His will who me created, if to this end, 
 The end is fair, and fair by me approved. 
 
 Cho. If God ordain his purpose high in this. 
 Question not thou his counsel. But perhaps 
 (Since mutable the ways and minds of men, 
 Erroneous oft, where right is most presumed) 
 God's counsel not in this. What if his purpose 
 Have not ordained this trial, but some error 
 Misleads thy father thus to his destruction. 
 And thy fond ruin — permitted him to bear 
 Awhile, to test his wisdom that now bears 
 Office of God on earth? Or else some madness. 
 Such as upon the wisest oft hath seized, 
 Delusive, vain, possess thy father's mind 
 Given o'er to folly? Then not well approved 
 His purpose or thy fond obedience found. 
 If he, belike through sin or unaware 
 Of his own deed, wreak thus upon his child 
 
 [28] 
 
Some great enormity of crime, Iniquity 
 Monstrous and horrid, not to be permitted 
 By those who have In charge the public good, 
 Thy good, as others. Here then be advised, 
 And well consider what thou here should'st do 
 Or suffer ; since upon what thou determinest 
 Perhaps his welfare and thy life depend 
 
 Miriam. Thy thoughts are plausible, yet not convince ; 
 For God will not permit his servant chosen, 
 And high ordained, through sin Impious to^ fall. 
 Or fall through error, which would question well 
 His goodness and his greatness both, denying 
 His deity or wisdom, to permit 
 Iniquity, or not avert. Those evil, 
 And they who purpose 111, are oft deluded 
 And given to error, that they may accomplish 
 Their own desert and doom. The good not so. 
 But guarded by his grace who them approves. 
 Not error then, or sin, or fond delusion. 
 Be mentioned here, but only God's high purpose 
 Himself to honor, and his servant prove 
 How faithful — I the lowly Instrument 
 To manifest his will and honor high. 
 At least by his permissive will hath come 
 What now hath come; nor shall my wisdom deem, 
 Thus fallible, to question his intent_ 
 And ordered purpose ; wise are all his ways. 
 
 Cho. Bethink thee what of pain In death thou feelest, 
 Nor thyself only, but thy mother, wrought 
 With woe, while here she stood, and much distressed ; 
 Thy father, too, after his vow performed, 
 Will miss thee, and deplore, if not repent, 
 His rash. Infatuate deed, only too late. 
 The present still Is thine in which to work 
 Deliverance for thyself and them and all 
 From stain of crime, from sorrow, from affliction. 
 Consider, then, what means thou usest here 
 To work thy safe release, and that of all. 
 
 Miriam. Dishonorably myself should I esteem, 
 [29] 
 
If, wrought by pain or dread, I should herein 
 Waver weakly for parents' love, or tears. 
 Or aught more dear esteemed — so to escape 
 Death, a less ill, the greater ruin invoked 
 Upon myself and them; thence justly punished 
 By direful stroke of wrath, tortured the more 
 With sense of weak apostasy from right, 
 Knowing my duty, but I did it not. 
 For death is not the greatest ill, nor pain, 
 Nor to the virtuous mind brings greatest fear; 
 But to approve the best, and thence pursue 
 Weakly the worst, is perfect misery. 
 Both to behold and to endure ; thence not 
 By me to be beheld, or, worse, endured. 
 
 Cho. Yet stay; for yonder now thy mother comes, 
 A train accompanying; whose purpose here. 
 If friendly or adverse, still undetermined. 
 Since not in look or act declared. Though what 
 Intended the event will soon disclose. 
 
 Mara. With purposed resolution have I come. 
 Daughter, with these thou seest, thy comrades dear. 
 To win thee to thy good, and to persuade 
 What nearly to thy safe concern pertains. 
 That from thy father's purpose to thee known 
 Thou may'st escape, and quite redeem thy life 
 Thus from destruction, that now threatens thee, 
 And me no less in thy dear loss destroyed. 
 For in thee lives my life, and by that bond 
 Part of myself I feel thee and thee own 
 My dearest loss; nor ever will remove 
 The smart I feel, thou parting, and the pain. 
 What hinders, then, since now all things conspire, 
 The place, thy father absent, these thy friends, 
 And opportune occasion, to redeem thee 
 From death, and us relieve, who anguish feel 
 Not less than thine; which thine is now to ease. 
 
 Miriam. Thou mayest not thus persuade me to thy 
 purpose 
 Against what just and right by me esteemed, 
 
 [30] 
 
Contrary to God's will and his divulged, 
 
 My father's; whom this act would give defiance, 
 
 And like in me compel from truth and goodness 
 
 What counsel I have held. Not thus by me 
 
 Shall that strict vow be thwarted, though deemed hard 
 
 And sad; my purpose otherwise is fixed. 
 
 If by the life thou thus would'st save (yet vainly 
 
 Would'st thou attempt the trial now) I may 
 
 Avail perhaps to save my father's vow. 
 
 From this declared intent seek not to draw me. 
 
 Mara. Consider, daughter, that none here disputes 
 The rashness of that vow, sworn impiously 
 And hence not binding — least of all on thee 
 Who didst not then consent; that false engagement 
 On thee can have no power, nor compel thee 
 Against thy life ; better such promise broken, 
 That against God's due law and man's conflicts, 
 Thus kept, with end so direful ; and perhaps 
 Some trial of thy father's faith designed 
 By God it may appear; or else, since thus 
 To reason opposed, some madness urges on 
 Thy father to this deed ; from whence on thee 
 Can be no right in honor and obedience 
 To him, thus seized with error, and perverse; 
 But rather right and reason both conjoin 
 That thou defeat thy father's purpose, deemed 
 Madness, or worse impiety, and him 
 Relieve from stain of guilt for vow performed. 
 
 Miriam. Thou dost not yet avail to move my purpose 
 Of faith and firm obedience to my God 
 And to my father; nor wilt thou o'erbear. 
 More than thou now o'erbearest, that I leave 
 My firm determination not to yield. 
 Or seek to save my life, thus jeopardized 
 For him to whom my life is owed, my father 
 And head. Desist as useless, then, thy purpose. 
 
 Mara. A father's right thou mentionest, but thou 
 feel'st not 
 What place in thee thy mother has. Shall I, 
 
 [31] 
 
Who bore thee with sore pains, not find thy duty 
 
 Also appear to me, as to thy father? 
 
 Not his entire thy duty and thy love. 
 
 But also mine, where now thou disregardest 
 
 To me both duty and love, where most is owed. 
 
 Let tender love to me constrain thee, then, 
 
 That to my asking thou be not opposed. 
 
 But yield my due, as right, approving thus 
 
 What debt to me thou owest, as nature bids 
 
 Miriam. Not that I love thee not, nor lack the bonds 
 That nature draws, have I refused thy asking; 
 But duty and respect, more valid plea 
 And more on me constraining, have compelled me 
 Hither to this purpose. God and nature bid 
 That I, who to my father owe my life, 
 For him should yield it, when occasion needs. 
 As now. Not then through disobedience drawn, 
 Or lacking in respect to thee, adjudge me. 
 That thus I still refuse thee, though still loth. 
 
 Mara. Bethink thee here; that way thy ruin lies. 
 
 Miriam. Yet still in this I persevere, as right. 
 
 Mara. Then, if persuasion win thee not, let win thee 
 What more avails, compulsion, since to reason 
 Thy ear is closed ; thou seest my company 
 Assembled to o'erbear, if thou opposed, 
 As now thou hast. If thus thou wilt refuse 
 To save thy life, when opportunity 
 Invites, as now, if life thus cheap be held 
 By thee, but not by us now here assembled, 
 Some means are here to save thee from thyself 
 To us against thy will, our present purpose 
 Not to be overborne or now gainsaid. 
 
 Miriam. If reverence for authority avail, 
 Or aught respect and right regard for law, 
 Ye w^ll desist your purpose, thus avowed 
 And now enforced, against my will declared 
 Thus purposed; or if these, as seems, avail not, 
 Perhaps against your purpose may oppose 
 Aught stronger than ye have, of more persuasion, 
 
 [32] 
 
Since force o'er force prevails when reason not. 
 For these who present stand, my father's comrades 
 And friends, will not, I think, withhold their aid, 
 As not before, nor their obedience now. 
 Most needed ; whom I here appeal to save 
 This wrong to law presumed thus violate. 
 
 Cho. Withhold thy purpose here; nor thus enforce 
 Against authority, but better learn 
 Respect to those that rule, as right, obeying 
 Thy husband, as in all things, so in this. 
 
 Mara. I thought to have gained my purpose, but have 
 failed, 
 Due to thy folly that refused my aid 
 Thus offered, against what deemed reasonable; 
 And reason is in all, yet not in thee. 
 But thou wouldst die; die, then, if thou preferest 
 Death to thy life. And thou in this art found 
 Like daughter to like father, obstinate 
 In purpose fond. Yet think not I shall bid 
 Farewell, or mourn thee ; rather disavow 
 As of my kin one so pernicious found 
 To her destruction ; whom my disregard 
 Shall visit, not my curse, found thus unworthy 
 All notice, thus insensate, rash, and fond. 
 
 Cho. Thrice happy he, with love of offspring given, 
 Founded in nature, pure, 
 Informed with goodliness, with honor due 
 Bestowed to parents, which most honor is, 
 Inclined to virtue. 
 Faithful, to good submiss; 
 
 Him happy thus, thrice blest, grief may not bend 
 With sorrow down, nor pain consume his life, 
 Thus anguished, blasted, dread, lamentable, 
 But death shall gently pluck 
 In ripe old age mature. 
 
 But whom ungrateful children curse, to ill 
 Inclined, to mischief bent. 
 Honoring not good, irreverent, arrogant, 
 Of duty scant, thrice miserable he, 
 
 [33] 
 
Loveless and unendeared, thus desolate, 
 
 Unhappy, vexed. Importuned 
 
 With grief, to sorrow devote. 
 
 Thus pierced with inward thorns, by ruin o'erwhelmed 
 
 In crude old age oppressed ; 
 
 For they will do him evil and not good 
 
 All the days of his life. 
 
 But stay; for now thy father comes 
 With steps not light, yet firm in look 
 As who resolved on right, 
 Though painful; whom the less to grieve 
 Do thou receive assured ; while we no less 
 Assay to lighten what he bears of grief. 
 
 Jephtha. I have, although their judge, besought the 
 lords 
 Wherever found by search, or chanced upon. 
 To express opinion of my deed, this offering; 
 Not that I aught misdoubted my intent, 
 But only to confirm belief I had 
 In this by God compelled, by him constrained. 
 None much opposed I found, and most approved, 
 Averring that, since now the vow engaged. 
 Only ofiFense to God must be entailed 
 If I from this great entering now draw back. 
 Impious and fond, thus thwart to his great purpose; 
 From which inferred that sole impiety. 
 Sole disobedience, could prevent thy ofFering, 
 Thus sore to me, distasteful and abhorrent. 
 For though sons yet to me were born, and more 
 Daughters besides, yet dearest loss of thee 
 Would never from me, such the pain I feel, 
 Thou parting; nor that sorrow ever ceased; 
 Since joy without thee found were found no joy. 
 Hither then am I come, not much in hope 
 Or heart to seek thee whom I here now find, 
 Not gladly, but with sorrow rather felt. 
 To do, although upon this purpose fixed 
 Steadfastly what I yet shall most abhor. 
 
 Miriam. Nor find'st thou me unready, unprepared, 
 Father, from whom I spring, and trust to show 
 
 [34] 
 
My deeds approve that boast. Farewells are said 
 Sufficient, since in them no solace found, 
 But sorrow felt and uttermost distress. 
 And nothing now remains but to be offered. 
 Thy surety, which for thee I gladly endure. 
 
 Jephtha. Delay; while hence I part and see prepared 
 All needful things, and summon all my house 
 And all my kindred, that the deed performed 
 All vouch, and own by me discharged entire 
 That compact hard, which yet I must accomplish. 
 
 Cho. Thou seest the hour approaching nearly now 
 That brings thy last of life ; and what for thee 
 In comfort or in counsel may we offer 
 To ease thy burdenous load, or lighten aught 
 The weight of all thy sorrow, and the pain? 
 
 Miriam. O happy days, which I shall never see, 
 Happier, far happier, had I never been ! , 
 
 Then would I not be thus exiled from life. 
 Untimely, unprepared ! Never must I 
 Behold the life I thought, nor see my years 
 Lengthening in peace, begirt with issue dear. 
 Brave sons and goodly daughters, whom I hoped 
 To bear and rear, and in them live my life ; 
 But I must die untimely in my youth 
 For whom I most would live, both to enjoy 
 And by them be enjoyed, my parents dear. 
 
 Cho. Parents are used to spare all for their children, 
 The course of nature bid, to gain increase; 
 Thou for thy parents bent to give thy utmost, 
 Made needful to redeem thy father's vow. 
 
 Miriam. O thoughts, which I again must never hold. 
 Of life, sweet in itself, but doubly thus. 
 Endeared with love of kindred, and with love 
 Destined of husband blest and children dear! 
 Me not old age, after full length of days 
 Fulfilled with honor, love, and life's delight, 
 Shall pluck, nor I mature fall in the lap 
 Of earth, the common mother of us all ; 
 
 [35] 
 
No home, nor friendly household hearth, where I 
 
 Might sit with reverence girt, with peace, with joy. 
 
 Must be my lot, but I in life's fair spring 
 
 Shall go to joyless death, and bid farewell 
 
 To life and life's delight, now doubly dear. 
 
 Thee, lastly, spousal bed, whereon I ne'er 
 
 Shall lie, nor ever know nuptial embrace. 
 
 But childless shall I die; nor ever feel 
 
 The tread of infant feet upon my breast. 
 
 Nor the sweet pain of childbirth ; but shall die 
 
 Unwed; nor ever know that hope fulfilled. 
 
 Mother in Israel from whom should spring 
 
 That saviour, who shall set his people free. 
 
 Cho. Give not to utter woe, but well bethink thee 
 That in good case thou diest, not honored less. 
 But more esteemed and reverenced, though thy years 
 Reached the full span of life; by all accounted 
 Among those faithful women who have cherished 
 Their country's welfare deemed above their own. 
 And name thou hast secure, not less renowned 
 Than Ruth or Deborah, famous to all time. 
 But yonder now for all due rites performed 
 Thy father comes, a train accompanying 
 Of all our best esteemed, the choice and prime, 
 To do thy rites meet reverence, as befits. 
 
 Jephtha. With tardy feet and lagging resolution. 
 Daughter, I come, to do what still remains. 
 Thy sacrifice, which I would gladlier stead 
 With my own life. But that could not avail, 
 Or benefit, but only worse draw down 
 The vengeful ire of Heaven; though, if prayers 
 Would aught avert, I long ere this had won 
 Reprieve for thee, for me a glad release 
 Of what in apprehension felt till now. 
 Yet now in sad reality soon known. 
 But come; for now the hour precise arrives 
 To offer thee, if now God's purpose hold 
 Thus toward thy sacrifice; or, if he will 
 Interposition, to prevent thy offering 
 Such means will not be wanting, but at hand. 
 
 [36] 
 
Cho. Delay ; since I perceive thy wife, as bent 
 On haste, this way approaching; for her coming 
 Defer departure, till her purpose gained. 
 
 Mara. With altered purpose, Jephtha, have I come, 
 Though sorrowing much, nor longer will oppose 
 Thy sad determination, sad to me 
 As to thyself. Bitter reproaches hard 
 Have I heaped on thee, which I now abjure. 
 And now withdraw that curse, then much enforced 
 By mother's love, and much compelled with thoughts 
 Then held so direful. Yet not me expect 
 To attend the deed ; thus far my spirit can. 
 But no more; to behold my daughter's death 
 Would draw my own — 'no benefit esteemed 
 To her or me — and doubly thee bereave, 
 In this enough bereaved. Here will I take 
 Farewell, daughter, of thee, whom I had hopes 
 One day to see espoused, and worthily. 
 And offspring born to thee, also my joy; 
 Fond hopes, alas, conceived, without fruition. 
 Destined to end in empty expectation ; 
 For now thou art espoused to barren death. 
 
 Miriam. Thy flattering hopes with cause I also shared. 
 But must no more. Farewells by me are said, 
 Except to thee, which now the last I bid; 
 For I shall shortly go that way, whence I 
 Ne'er shall return, and be with them that rest. 
 But come ; let us no more delay ; for me 
 To die is as to live, if God's high will 
 Demand that sacrifice. Though life be sweet 
 And hath delights, yet this delight is chief. 
 That God shall find fulfilled in thee express 
 His purpose predecreed, thou thine in me. 
 Living or dying, then, that thou obey 
 Him as I thee, esteem the greatest good 
 And best, and in us both, as now, fulfilled. 
 
 Jephtha. Elders and friends, farewell. Your company 
 I will not ask, but wish your presence here 
 Upon this place. Comfort and cheer my wife 
 
 [37] 
 
with what of comfort Is; speak her but fair 
 And reasonably, If need of speech be found 
 For solace given. Bitter hath been this day, 
 And grievous; the event remains with God. 
 
 Cho. Wise he, who from above 
 Hath wisdom given him well to moderate 
 His soul, and reason guide ! Him not, perplexed 
 And drawn from right and path of fairest truth 
 By folly, from wisdom enticed, 
 Shall ruin bechance unthought, nor on his steps 
 Unfeared destruction light; 
 Not found confused, but smooth 
 His way to virtue, thus escaped 
 His own ruin Invoked, 
 With sight internal clear, 
 And from presumption fond, 
 The grossest evil that walks, escaped secure. 
 
 But whom delusion and folly have possessed, 
 Thus drawn to evil counsel 
 And wrought to ruin depraved. 
 Incautious, fond, Insensate, 
 With darkness internal struck — 
 What voyage but must needs result In wrack 
 With folly, ruin's steersmate, at the helm? 
 
 For me, may I not pass with Impious foot 
 The sacred bounds ordained 
 Which God of old had set to right ; 
 Ne'er may transgression's net enclose my steps 
 Found In forbidden place abjured; 
 Nor let my due feet fail 
 From wisdom's studious paths; 
 So shall I scape o'erweening pride. 
 That works confusion dire 
 And each best thing perverts to basest use. 
 
 So let not God impute his servant folly. 
 The mirror of his state and Imaged might; 
 Rather his labors view calamitous. 
 And turn his toils to hopeful end. 
 
 But yonder now approaches, as In haste, 
 Who can relate what tidings wished. 
 As present on that place; 
 
 [38] 
 
For thus his look infers, 
 From question cleared; and tidings borne 
 Speak in his face assured before disclosed. 
 Say, therefore, freely on; but first pronounce 
 If glad or sorrowful the news thou bringest. 
 
 Messenger. Both glad and sorrowful; the former 
 more. 
 
 Cho. Set forth then what thou hast in full relation, 
 While we attend ; thou seest our thirst to know. 
 
 Messenger. Desire constrained me from that spectacle 
 Not to be absent, though dejecting much 
 To see so mournful sight, our mighty champion 
 Submitted to such trial, and his daughter. 
 Our pride of beauty and goodness well esteemed, 
 Seized by so violent death. With others more 
 That solemn moved in stately troop, I came, 
 Captains and counsellors, lords, ladies, held 
 Our choice in honor and the flower, not only 
 Of Mizpeh, but this neighboring region round 
 (So wide the rumor sad by this had spread), 
 Who flocked to see, not idly, nor as curious, 
 But to assure respect and sympathy 
 For both whom love of all in this possessed. 
 The place was open plain, where all might see. 
 Whatever sort attended, great and high 
 In office, or found lesser, civil freedmen 
 Gathered from town and city nigh, or menial 
 Of service found, whom love of these constrained 
 To this sad spectacle and solemn rite. 
 Within the open space an altar stood, 
 Of random stones upreared, virgin of use. 
 With needful things prepared for sacrifice. 
 Thither was Miriam brought, and thither came 
 Her father, Jephtha; while with solemn mien 
 And reverent action ranged the lords around. 
 That with their presence dignified the scene; 
 Behind these next the crowd, rank beyond rank 
 In ordered circles drawn. Before the altar 
 Great Jephtha stood, with hands uplift, and prayed: 
 
 [ 39 ] 
 
If this to God displeasing, be some sign 
 
 To warn vouchsafed, or other victim given, 
 
 To purge my sin for vow if unperformed. 
 
 Then to his daughter turned : Dear daughter, thou 
 
 Pardon this deed I do ; nor on me charge 
 
 What guilt, if any, that I take thy life. 
 
 Whereat, with eyes uplift, as one who prayed. 
 
 She answered: Freely I forgive thee, father. 
 
 Who, as in all things, doest only right 
 
 In this ; far from thee be all thought of blame. 
 
 This said, he kissed his daughter and with tears 
 
 Fondly embraced, much won that she could choose 
 
 To bear all things for his dear sake, even death. 
 
 Nor she him less returned, and also wept, 
 
 Not sorrowful, but smiling as with joy; 
 
 Then thus resumed: Let not my limbs be bound, 
 
 Nor bind my eyes, but let me freely go. 
 
 Thus seeing all, and seen, because I die. 
 
 Freely, father, for thee, for whom to die 
 
 Is joy, not pain ; nor any blame be charged 
 
 For this to thee or me, nor punishment. 
 
 So saying, she stepped before the altar, and stood 
 
 With upward eyes in prayer; then turned unmoved, 
 
 In firm composure fixed, unpaled with ill, 
 
 Awaiting what her sire might next perform. 
 
 And darts of pity from all eyes received 
 
 Into her sight of those who mourning gazed, 
 
 Compassioning her end. And he forthwith. 
 
 The knife in hand upraised, beside her stept; 
 
 Nor would avert his face nor turn his eyes, 
 
 That aught of pain escaped, or punishment. 
 
 But fixed in steadfast gaze, with constant face. 
 
 Drove the knife in her side up to the hilt; 
 
 Then placed upon the pyre and touched the flame 
 
 That swift with nimble glance the whole consumed. 
 
 The assembly soon dispersed ; nor Jephtha stayed 
 
 After his vow performed, but parted straight ; 
 
 And now approaches yonder to this place. 
 
 Jephtha. Elders and men of Mizpeh, not by me 
 Recital needs of what but late performed. 
 Since now perceived that tidings to you came, 
 
 [40] 
 
Before my presence, of what seemly done, 
 
 Both well pronounced and fair; and God in this 
 
 Honored, as in all else ; nor of me questioned 
 
 On whom all blame alights. But that is past; 
 
 Only remains that God's great will be wrought 
 
 In all else that remains, as done in this 
 
 By me, with patience armed and faith to bear 
 
 Whatever lot, and strong with fortitude 
 
 Not weakly to relax what powers I have, 
 
 But still exert for honor to his name. 
 
 Who will with strength uphold and me enable, 
 
 My purpose hence and counsel sole assured. 
 
 Cho. Doubtful and dark the ways of God, 
 And undiscerned his high intent ; 
 Evil to men appearing oft; 
 Yet in the close agreeing well 
 With his great purpose; whence, though mourned. 
 His servants wise his works pronounce 
 And fair, befitting his great end. 
 
 [41 J 
 
DINAH 
 
THE ARGUMENT 
 
 Dinah, daughter to Jacob, after her ravishment by 
 Shechem, son of Hamor, prince of Shalem, comes forth at 
 morning with purpose to take her life. She is discovered 
 by some maiden attendants, making the chorus, vi^ho en- 
 deavor to dissuade her w^hat they can. Next enters her 
 mother, Leah, who seeks Dinah's consent for the latter's 
 marriage to Shechem; which Dinah refuses at first, but 
 later is prevailed upon to permit. Dinah is next visited 
 by her brothers, to whom she makes recourse for aid. 
 They promise to endeavor revenge of her quarrel. Her 
 father, Jacob, then enters with Shechem, who tries to per- 
 suade her to the marriage. She refuses at first, mindful 
 of her brothers' injunction of feigned unwillingness; but, 
 after some discourse, consents, and departs toward the city 
 with Shechem. After her departure, Jacob bewails his 
 misfortune; whom the chorus seek to comfort, telling him 
 of his sons' promised endeavor to requite the injury. He, 
 in anger at their disobedience, thinks to depart and warn 
 the Shechemites of their peril; but is prevented by the 
 appearance of a servant, who relates what hath happened 
 in the city, namely, the slaughter of the men of Shalem by 
 Simeon and Levi. These now appear; are reproached bj'^ 
 their father for their faith-breach; but excuse themselves 
 under pretext of their sister's wrong; wherewith the drama 
 concludes. 
 
 THE PERSONS 
 
 Dinah 
 
 Jacob, her father. Levi, son to Jacob. 
 
 Leah, her mother. Shechem. 
 
 Simeon, son to Jacob. Servant. 
 
 Chorus of maiden attendants. 
 The Scene, near the tents of Jacob, before Shalem. 
 
DINAH 
 
 Dinah. O swarming thoughts, that wakened rush upon 
 
 me. 
 
 Tormenting, as with stings of hornets armed ! 
 Which bring to mind what happy state I lost, 
 Of purity, of maiden Innocence 
 Bereft, deflowered, and all my virgin awe 
 Rent from me, that uncovers thus my shame ; 
 And I bereaved, all disadvantaged found, 
 Alas, what was my all, yet him that seized 
 Enriched not more, but poorer left with blame 
 Of maiden Innocence and honor wronged ! 
 O, wherefore did my parents bring me forth 
 And thence with care uprear me — ^to such end 
 Abominable, detested, fraught with shame 
 Unquenchable, that burns me as with flame. 
 When In that dark and lecherous place I found 
 Alas, what hath no name, which yet I feel, 
 Sleeping or waking, thus with ruin harmed ? 
 Why did I walk that day thus forth alone, 
 And thence that evil draw, my dearest grief, 
 Which brought on me what sorrow I possess, 
 What hatred, what contempt, what utter shame 
 Of mine own self, when I — scarce three days past- 
 Went forth to see the daughters of this land. 
 And In their city, where I caught my hurt. 
 Lost all my maiden virtue, all my peace. 
 Leaving me blank of honor, blank of good, 
 My harsh undoing, which I know not well 
 Shall end me, or shall spare? O shameful blot 
 Of virgin purity and virtue wronged ! 
 Indignity the vilest that might fall, ^ 
 
 Without all hope of change, to curse this life— 
 Both what now Is and that which Is to come! 
 Since now I bear such miseries as well 
 
 [45] 
 
Might task my life to weep. O, worse than death, 
 
 Torment, or hunger, or aught other ill 
 
 That human life contains! While he, who thus 
 
 Hath wrecked me, smiles away my maiden blame, 
 
 Boasting his cunning and accursed guile 
 
 That hath forced ope the casket of my honor 
 
 And set my virgin treasures forth to scorn. 
 
 Whence death I now invoke — yet why? to me, 
 
 Thus quick or dead, incorporate found with shame. 
 
 No glad release, though wont the captive freed 
 
 By death, his surest friend and dearest aid. 
 
 From sorrows all discharged, from fear, from woe. 
 
 But me no wished reprieve shall find. 
 
 Thus captive to the worst of wrongs. 
 
 That night is friendlier found than day, 
 
 Which wakes me to the sense of bitter woe 
 
 With stinging thoughts, that goad along my mind ; 
 
 Though night may medicine not thus my grief, 
 
 That I all pains forego — ^since even in dreams 
 
 I see the ravisher approaching on 
 
 To seize me, and once more my flesh pollute 
 
 With loathly foul embrace and touch of shame. 
 
 The day to me is dark 
 
 And silent as the gloom 
 
 When light forsakes the sky. 
 
 Hid in her nightly cave! — 
 
 Such miseries threaten dire. 
 
 Thronging upon me, numberless, confused. 
 
 With horror, blanking out the hopeful light. 
 
 As in the press and thrust of the night-storm 
 
 When atom snow falls through the atom dark. 
 
 But let me not forget what brings me forth. 
 
 Escaped their watch whose vigilance I shun. 
 
 That purpose to seek out some violent end 
 
 And desperate death ; which my own hand shall wreak, 
 
 Avenging me this worst of pains and wrongs. 
 
 Which than I had received, better had I 
 
 Never beheld the bright face of the sun. 
 
 But never been, unknowing life and light — 
 
 As an abortive birth untimely dead 
 
 Or ere I saw the day! 
 
 Then would I not be banished thus to shame, 
 
 [46] 
 
As to the land of death, though yet In life, 
 
 The land of darkness and the shades of death, 
 
 A life of living death, yet not exempt 
 
 From burial in life, 
 
 Entombed in living shame. 
 
 But stay ; for now I hear the tread of feet 
 
 Hasting this way their steps — ^and thence perhaps 
 
 Of my pursuers, me now come to find 
 
 And stare upon my wrongs, to spite me more. 
 
 Whose presence feared I shun, and hide me thus, 
 
 That I may thence conceal me from their shame. 
 
 Cho. Where, where is she? mindful the while! 
 Lest now, through uncouth haste, 
 Harshly we break in upon her, 
 Disordering more her thoughts, in saddest plight 
 Thus changed, beyond belief and all report 
 Languished, apart withdrawn. 
 Abandoned all by hope. 
 
 In sordid habit of sad thoughts, only perchance 
 Not all outworn from life. 
 
 Or was it she whom thus we marked, 
 Our flower of beauty once and fairest pride. 
 Yet now by ruin deflowered. 
 Of all thy virtue reft, thy good, thy peace, 
 Humbled to act impure by lustful play. 
 That hath offended thy fair maiden awe 
 And rent thy virgin veil. 
 Though late in stainless purity thou grewest, 
 With choicest care upreared, and nurture sweet 
 Bestowed, as a fair flower 
 Select in choice and sacred. 
 
 Was it for this thy mother brought thee forth 
 And cherished from the womb, 
 Till in her careful eye 
 
 Thou stood'st her nursling sweet and choice delight, 
 Whom she had thoughts one day to see espoused. 
 And strow the bridal bed for thee, a bride 
 Yielded with sweet submission, coy delight, 
 To him, thy first of men? 
 Yet thee a bed unhoped thy mother dews 
 
 [47] 
 
With tears and misty sighs 
 Dropped from her cloudy years. 
 
 How may I well bewail 
 The hard mischance thou bearest, 
 Misery of miseries, the top and crown 
 Of human ills, which thee hath wrought to woe, 
 A prisoner now to shame, in bonds to grief. 
 Such ruined life thou hast, abhorred and scorned. 
 For thee I reckon abject in estate. 
 With sorrows undeserved 
 And vile contempt befallen. 
 Under all insult whelmed, 
 That grief herself might grieve, 
 Though late in honor high thou stood'st. 
 Universally known with fairest graces. 
 
 Dinah. Ay me! 
 
 Cho. But stay! for now I hear 
 Her sorrowed plaint whom thus we seek ; 
 And yonder from her place 
 Discern her coming, whom befits to cheer 
 With healing sympathy, if lightened aught 
 Her burdenous load of suffering and shame. 
 
 Dinah. I heard the sound of gentle words, which me 
 Drew forth ; though what their import yet uncaught. 
 
 Cho. Let us approach and speak her fair for solace. 
 If aught in consolation we may bring 
 Of comfort, or in word or action given. 
 Behold us come ; since we indeed for thee 
 Know sorrow at thy irksome touch of shame. 
 
 Dinah. O friends, I wished you not — come forth in 
 haste 
 If I perchance might find some ready death 
 To medicine my sorrows with sweet balm. 
 
 Cho. Despair not ; nor such desperate means determine, 
 As thinking thus perhaps to heal thy pains. 
 
 [48] 
 
But better learn to bear thy loaded sorrow, 
 
 Lest more by death be drawn, when In the grave 
 
 Shame should still cling thee, and thou miss thy aim 
 
 To scape the load thou bearest now of grief. 
 
 For not thy present sorrow deem the heaviest 
 
 That might bechance thee ; since, if desperate grown 
 
 Through grief, thou take thy life, thou shalt not scape 
 
 Sharp scorn of weakness for thy facile death. 
 
 And here consider what thou rightly doest ; 
 
 For, If thy sorrow thou shalt well endure, 
 
 Thou may'st o'erllve thy shame, and draw renown 
 
 For mind superior to thy sufferings borne ; 
 
 But, If thou weakly yield to grief, and quit 
 
 To struggle with thy shame, thou shalt thence reap 
 
 Far worse contempt, shame, and dishonor borne. 
 
 Dinah. Such reasons fair approve; but how should I 
 Find solace thence for such extremest pains? 
 How should I once endure to lift my head. 
 Or gaze with forehead unabashed my friends. 
 After the shipwrack of my honor wrought? 
 How should not all who know point me with scorn 
 As ruined ? Or how my parents not with shame 
 Bemoan my state? Unwedded, yet no maid. 
 Not virgin, yet no wife — -while I should live 
 Hapless and scorned — a living death to think! 
 I In earth's universal lap would lie. 
 As In my mother's so to lay me down. 
 The cure of all my sorrows and the balm. 
 
 Cho. An evil load thou hast, I bear thee witness. 
 But now relate what direful chance possessed thee 
 And drew thy hurt; which to unburden well, 
 Impart to us thy anguish — as perchance 
 To thy relief; since griefs, once past, are sweet. 
 
 Dinah. He saw me fair; and, moved thereby to lust. 
 Sought me; and, when alone he found me, forced. 
 
 Cho. O heavy load thou bearest, the extreme grief! 
 More than we ought we know of thy sad plight. 
 Such hard condition. Yet, since thus is told 
 
 [49] 
 
Thy sad relation, now in full set forth 
 
 Recital given with detail and distinct; 
 
 That we may share with thee what grief thou bearest, 
 
 If haply lightened aught thy loaded pain ; 
 
 Since cure oft found in burdened woes cast forth. 
 
 Dinah. The greater woe I feel than first I felt. 
 What have ye asked ? are ye become my foes, 
 That thus add grief to grief and woe to woe 
 For one already bowed beneath such weight, 
 By mention of my evils made, thus fond ? 
 For of our sorrows think the top and crown 
 Is their remembrance. Though ye well intend 
 Toward me, perhaps misguided in your minds, 
 That I relax what purpose I have held 
 Of silence and close thoughts — so wrought I feel 
 By sympathy and tender love expressed. 
 That hour I well remember when, from home 
 Parting, I journeyed, innocent, alone, 
 Nourished with pleasant thoughts, as I walked forth 
 Toward the near city, where my comrades dwelt. 
 To visit thence the daughters of the land. 
 As thus I passed, and plucked what forward flowers 
 The season showed, filling my lap with sweet, 
 Wearied at length, sharp thirst upon me seized, 
 That me constrained to seek some pleasant draught 
 From mossy fountain or cool shady spring. 
 While thus with inexperienced quest I strayed, 
 And knew not whither, on a pettish rill 
 I chanced, that tinkled through the pleasant green; 
 Which following on, it led me to a cave, 
 Wherein it spread into a gleaming plain, 
 That in its glassy mirror held the sky. 
 Then on its brink I knelt as much in haste, 
 And all the gathered flowers from my lap 
 Let fall, as to the mossy brim I leaned. 
 There as I bent to look, and stooped to drink. 
 Another face within that gleam appeared, 
 Smiling to mine. As back I started straight. 
 Dismayed and sad, about me round were thrown 
 Arms of such gripe that I in vain might strive 
 To loose their coil. There while perplexed I lay, 
 
 [50] 
 
Uncertain what, a calming voice I heard 
 
 That mildly spake. And, O fair flower, It said. 
 
 Deigns none to crop thy bloom and smell thy sweet ? 
 
 But me no amorous reproach shall seize 
 
 That I neglect thee — so smitten with the dart 
 
 Of powerful beauty. With that he bent his head. 
 
 As to Impress my cheek, with grasp relaxed, 
 
 That forth I sprang, and sought escape in flight. 
 
 But me he overtook, found swifter far; 
 
 And In embraces amorous and strong 
 
 He bore me to a mossy bed nearby 
 
 Of roses, iris blue^ and violets pied. 
 
 What after chanced I cannot well relate. 
 
 As from a dream I waked, and found me laid 
 
 On that soft bed, by that still pool reclined ; 
 
 But O, how glad, could I have never waked, 
 
 Or could have waked and found it but a dream ! 
 
 Thence, rising, through the fields I took my steps, 
 
 And sorrowed to my father's house returned. 
 
 Thus did I lose my honor, all my shame ; 
 
 But O, where may I lose what there I gained, 
 
 This burning torture, that torments me, thus 
 
 With fierce oppression seized, deflowered and fallen ? 
 
 Cho. Have comfort; yet thy friends secure thou hast, 
 Who blame thee not, but sorrow for thy state. 
 Abject, Insulted, wronged, dishonored, vile, 
 Which yet may not be cured, nor lightened aught. 
 If thou bereave thy life — only worse shame 
 Visited on thy name, extreme contempt. 
 Thy shame thou drew'st not on thee; none will blame 
 Thy hard condition as self-caused. Bethink thee. 
 That to thy purity no stain attaches; 
 Thou didst not to defilement foul consent, 
 Nor taste, self-moved, that sin. Thou canst but worsen 
 Thy honor's sad offense, not better aught, 
 By violent remove to scape from life. 
 Death ends not all. Though thou to sense wert dead. 
 Yet fame or shame of thee should live — and which, 
 Falls now within the power of thy choice. 
 But after death too late shalt thou repent 
 What choice thou hast made, If thence unwisely made, 
 
 [51] 
 
Untimely, ere with wisdom shall consort 
 Thy better mind. Bethink thee here thy state. 
 
 Dinah. Your words not wise approve — have naught of 
 cure 
 To stanch my wound, which hath infixed so deep 
 Its hurt, that only death can medicine 
 My honor's seated sickness and sore harm. 
 All else is now past cure. Only remains 
 That death, by me oft-invocated, come. 
 Hastening the healing balm of all my pains. 
 
 Cho. Thou shalt not, while we present standi escape 
 Thus from thy life, and worse distress thy wound. 
 Still more defile thy name ; which not by us 
 Shall be endured — or else the worst endured 
 By us, thy friends and kinsmen here, who yet 
 Shall save thee to thyself against thy will. 
 
 Dinah. Yet thence I persevere, nor aught give o'er. 
 
 Cho. Have care; lest here thy ruin worse bechance. 
 
 Dinah. It cannot, with more sorrow on me drawn. 
 
 Cho. I fear what worse dishonor thence ensue. 
 
 Dinah. Your purpose fair intends; but, thus dis- 
 traught, 
 I cannot well bethink — so fierce my grief. 
 That thence the readiest way to scape I seize 
 Out of my pains — ^too faint and spent my mind, 
 That I should well consider what is best. 
 Best for all time, since now to me approves 
 The quickest cure as best — which death now holds. 
 
 Cho. A better mind thou hast — show'st more the 
 smack 
 Of wisdom in thy words, more with the salt 
 Of wise discretion savoring. For what grief 
 Thou on thy parents drawest, if through despair 
 Thou take thy life, and quite bereave their hope 
 Of thee, their dearest solace yet esteemed ! 
 
 [52] 
 
Be of more courage, then, nor thus deject 
 
 Thy mind to thoughts of death, but think on life, 
 
 Wherein thou mayest yet their sorrow cheer 
 
 By faithful love and care on them maintained, 
 
 Blunting in service the sharp thorn of grief. 
 
 That what thou hast thus lost thou least shalt miss. 
 
 Dinah. O that hope of respite I could find 
 From the spirit's hurts and pangs. 
 That rankling fester more 
 
 And worse infect with pains than body's wounds, 
 Though ulcerating with inflammation dire 
 Of maladies unnumbered 
 Which maim the apprehensive secret parts, 
 Torturing the corporal sense ! 
 
 For the mind's wounds distress me 
 Distract with rankling pains. 
 Not less than corporal pangs. 
 Which yield to healing liquors that assuage 
 The pains of bodily sense. 
 
 But for the spirit's ill no cure, no virtuous balm. 
 Nor opiate syrup drugged with sense of death, 
 No oil of precious touch, to heal 
 This lingering ill of woe 
 That visits thus my mind. 
 
 Whence now I beg for death's benumbing balm, 
 With preying grief's disease quite spent and sunk, 
 Oppressed with grief in surfeit. 
 
 Yet hapless all I mourn, deject with grief, 
 Struck from the list of hope ; 
 Hopeless my evils, found remediless 
 Beyond all earthly cure, 
 Since I no respite thence may gain 
 From these my vexing ills 
 Shown to the shame of day. 
 Nor from the night concealed. 
 Whence kindly death once more I now invoke 
 To hide me in the grave. 
 Where I might lie in sweet forgetfulness, 
 Of all my woes the balm. 
 
 [53] 
 
Cho. Thy griefs distressful bring to mind 
 How, stirred with wrath and zeal of jealousy, 
 By Abraham's slack effeminacy drawn, 
 Sarai had dealt with Hagar, when she strove 
 Against her; and the inhospitable tent 
 Exposed her helpless, to avoid worse fate. 
 Yet she from threatening woes deliverance won, 
 Or God delivered; which like happy chance 
 For thee perhaps ordained, 
 
 Thus tested, and through suffering grace endued. 
 To release from dire afflictions. 
 
 But who is this? — since now, so wrought with grief, 
 I scarce have wonted sight — approaching slow 
 With leaden foot, and garments disarrayed, 
 The signs of woe. Yet now, more near discerned. 
 Thy mother seems; if I aright may guess. 
 Perhaps thus come with thee to hold 
 Wished converse, as with tidings new arrived. 
 Since in her face I see not utter woe, 
 But some reflex and glimmering of faint hope 
 To thy behoof ; prepare 
 With her what converse thou boldest. 
 
 Dinah. Ay, in what other plight must I now stand. 
 Abused, maltreated, cast a prey to scorn ! 
 
 Leah. Friends, for I see you such, though opiate 
 sorrow 
 Hath wellnigh drugged my sense, that scarce I know 
 Sleeping or waking, say if here be found 
 Whom thus distraught myself distraught now seek; 
 Or if ye aught from sight or word have gained 
 Of her, that hapless maiden, my lost daughter; 
 Who now perhaps betakes her to the shroud 
 Of thickest trees to hide her fearful sight 
 From peering day, or on some bolstering trunk 
 Pillows her head, fraught with o'erburdened fears. 
 
 Cho. Not farther seek; for here, though such her 
 change 
 Belief forbids, behold thy daughter sought. 
 
 Leah. O wretched sight accurst ! Is this my hope 
 
 [54] 
 
Once cherished, this my flower of youth, and pride, 
 
 My nursling, my delight? — yet now, alas! 
 
 Deflowered all beauty by a ruthless hand 
 
 That stole her maiden sweet and rifled all 
 
 Her virgin store ! O, wherefore did I beg 
 
 For children, and a daughter wished receive. 
 
 More dear to me, late come, desired the more 
 
 That I might solace of her sex obtain ? 
 
 For fathers in a son take first delight, 
 
 But every mother for a daughter asks. 
 
 Her solace and delight, whom she may rear, 
 
 Her tendance fond, till, bred at length to years 
 
 And wedded, she may hearten her in pain 
 
 Of children, and renew her former love 
 
 For offspring in her daughter's place obtained. 
 
 But O, what hopes I have, what thoughts are mine, 
 
 Aflflicting, when I mourn thy hapless state 
 
 Defaced, deflowered, and ruined ! Who will ask 
 
 Thy hand in marriage? who will wish thee joined 
 
 His wife, abhorred by all and deeply scorned? 
 
 But peace; what have I said? my grief-wrought words 
 
 Too far have run. For now befits not best 
 
 Wailing, or weak dejection, as but late 
 
 Disburdened; but this now so sudden sight 
 
 Of all thy miseries anew inflicted 
 
 Drew my fresh tears. And these good news I bring 
 
 To heal thy griefs. For thou this day art sought 
 
 For marriage, and by him who most is fit. 
 
 Who shall to thee atone for all thy wrongs. 
 
 Dinah. Think not of me such care ; since I indeed 
 Have now no hopes to live, but only pray 
 For death, my chiefest cure and happiest balm. 
 Death, my best bridegroom and my husband best, 
 Shall wed me soon. Then in some lonely grave 
 Shall I forgotten lie and quiet sleep, 
 As in my mother's lap — a joy to think. 
 
 Leah. Deject not, daughter, but have better hopes 
 Of life and pleasure yet to come. Despair not 
 As thus; for thou shalt yet live down thy shame 
 And lift thy head ; since thee no common man 
 
 [55] 
 
Seeks now with hopes to wed, but one whom kings 
 
 Might favor to receive, a prince's son. 
 
 Honor to thee unthought. Hence now no more 
 
 Deject thy mind, but livelier hopes obtain 
 
 Of wedlock dalliance and nuptial joys, 
 
 Thy solace for the sorrows thou hast borne. 
 
 Dinah. Who thus would wed me? who so far foregone 
 And dead to his own shame, as to invoke 
 His worst undoing by ill spousals joined 
 With me, his constant torment and reproach, 
 Universal contempt and grief obtaining? 
 Foolhardy! who might thus no joy obtain 
 In wedlock dalliance, on whose offspring lights 
 Contamination and base shame. Thence not 
 By me permitted that on others placed 
 My burden, yet divided not, nor shared. 
 For woe, though halved when shared and still the more 
 Communicated — yet ill shame as mine 
 Disburdens not by lightening, but grows more 
 With sharing — and on her at first who bears 
 Presses most heavily when divided most. 
 No mention then be made of wedlock here 
 And nuptial dalliance, deemed however sweet 
 By me, who should inflict the greatest wrong, 
 The heaviest, that a husband e'er should bear. 
 
 Leah. Daughter, determine not, till thou knowest all. 
 For he, who seeks thee, is for thee most fit, 
 Who knows thee, and, as to thy sad cause of shame, 
 So now would reparation offer, cure 
 What hurts by him were done. So much hath love 
 For thee constrained him, that he now desires 
 Thy kindness and thy favor and thy love. 
 Reject not then these offered means, which give thee 
 Wished opportunity to heal thy shame 
 By marriage — and to whom more fit than him, 
 The cause of thy sad ruin and dismay? 
 
 Dinah. Mother, what outrage fresh, what living shame 
 Endured, wouldst thou force on me? Must I hold 
 Thee of my foes, pernicious to my peace, 
 
 [56] 
 
That thus thou seekest to augment my grief 
 Made lasting, and thence much In horror grown? 
 Destroy not so my peace, wreck not my hopes 
 Of quiet sought. What have I done, what motioned 
 Toward thee, that thou my worst foe art become, 
 Most noxious, that mov'st thus my dearest shame? 
 
 Leah. Yet hear me, daughter. Not that I would 
 lessen 
 Or ought extenuate what offense thou hast; 
 But, if thou well consider, thou must take 
 Whatever means to save what still thou mayest. 
 What still may be advantaged to thy good. 
 Thou seest thy plight unhappy, virtue reft 
 And name dishonored; which thou canst not cure, 
 Nor aught relieve by cold repulse and hatred 
 Toward him, the cause of all thy harm obtained. 
 Bethink thee better what thou yet may'st have, 
 His wife; which name and station shall protect thee 
 From added insult, shame. Indignity. 
 His high condition warrants what respect 
 Condition gives, and somewhat heals thy pride , 
 Thus wounded. Only disregard not all, 
 All consolation not reject, that so 
 What thus thou hast lost thou easily shalt miss. 
 
 Dinah^ Give over thy assault, thus tedious. Irksome, 
 Aiming to win me to thy mind proposed, 
 And leave me, worn and weary, thus tongue-battered, 
 With siege of words beset, hard pressed, and girded. 
 That I to thee should yield, with him should live. 
 Enduring all that shameful chance might bring. 
 Sooner than such mischance, tormentlve, grievous 
 Above the lot of men, I would the sun 
 Might scorch my reason, shriveled up and burned. 
 Or that the lightning reach an angry arm 
 To snatch me from a life more curst than death; 
 Or that the blackening whirlwind suck me up. 
 Then dash in pieces down, destroyed entire. 
 That I might perish and be never more, 
 Cancelled in every member, joint, and limb 
 Of what I was, that none had known my shame. 
 
 [57] 
 
Leah. Be not so forward to afflict thyself, 
 Nor motion to thy own destruction, daughter. 
 What heavy ills thou bearest, only more burdened 
 If thy own hand shall heap upon thyself 
 More shame, more anguish to thy burden add. 
 By fond rejection made of what now offered; 
 Which motions to thy good, and makes for thee. 
 Accept his offer then, while yet is time. 
 Before perchance offended to depart. 
 
 Dinah. What favor at his hand could I accept. 
 Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down 
 To such contempt, that he cannot avail 
 With succor to uplift me, cleanse my stain? 
 For so it should fall out in sad event, 
 That he, who most would help, should hinder most, 
 The best that he can give to me the worst. 
 This knows my ravisher, and only seeks 
 Yet further to afflict me with the shame 
 Of constant misery — ever to my sight 
 Present my deadliest foe and chiefest harm. 
 
 Leah. Would thou hadst hearkened, daughter, to my 
 words. 
 When I besought thee, that unhappy morn, 
 Not so to leave the side that gave thee birth! 
 But wandering desire, I know not whence. 
 Possessed thee. Thou hadst then persisted safe; 
 Not, as now, stained, deflowered, dishonored, reft 
 Of all thy peace, slight, wretched, miserable. 
 Let parents learn henceforth to shun all hopes 
 Of honor, reverence, respect from children, 
 Who early will approve to lack that faith 
 Which they toward their parents best should hold — 
 That oft, be sure, shall wreck all household peace. 
 And all their flowering hopes shall blast with woe. 
 
 Dinah. What blame hath trod thy lip, mother perverse, 
 That on me all that heavy load should light 
 Of censure and reproach, which thus thou loadest? 
 To what was done I gave not then consent, 
 
 [58] 
 
Which might to any chance, nor touch with blame. 
 
 Was I then never from thy side to have gone, 
 
 But still at home remained, as though too weak 
 
 Of nature that I could myself have care 
 
 For what was wrong? And what couldst thou have done, 
 
 Hadst thou been there, more than myself I did? 
 
 I begged him, I implored him, to forbear, 
 
 Adjured by all the bonds of natural duty 
 
 And of religion not to blot my honor. 
 
 What could thy force have done which mine could not? 
 
 If I not then sought out the ill I took. 
 
 Neither shouldst thou upbraid me now with blame. 
 
 I heard him, and I saw him, and I ran ; 
 
 And, falling at his feet, I clasped his knees, 
 
 A suppliant, and begged him as a boon 
 
 Not with disfavor and contempt returned 
 
 To treat my imploral thus of honor spared. 
 
 Beyond this, force had need ; which thou, nor I, 
 
 Successfully had used, more than I used. 
 
 Blame me not then for this so hard mischance. 
 
 Which on me came invited not, nor sought. 
 
 Leah. Then hear me with changed plea, since in thy 
 words 
 Much reason, and in thy thoughts more trouble stands. 
 Not that I like thy wedlock fortune, Dinah, 
 Have I assayed thee thus, and moved thee hard 
 To do but what remains^ which thence perhaps 
 May remedy thy state, and thee restore 
 To place of wonted honor lost. Perhaps 
 Men will forget, and kindlier in their words 
 Will mention thee, of less desert insist 
 Thy shame, if thou thy shame shalt cover well 
 With discreet deed, this marriage I would join 
 With him who thus shall heal thy chiefest harm. 
 No better chance thou hast ; nor canst thou choose 
 Herein what thou wouldst do — best then to think 
 That thus, since what thou wouldst thou canst not do. 
 Here what thou canst thou wouldst. If else thou canst, 
 Which herein I have failed to offer, say, 
 
 Dinah. What husband now would wish me for a wife? 
 [59] 
 
Leah. The better that thou shouldst a husband have. 
 
 Dinah. A woman should conceal a woman's shame. 
 
 Leah. Rather should heal it, as in this were done. 
 
 Dinah. I cannot so refute what plea thou offerest ; 
 But feel no less disgust and ill distaste 
 For what thou hast proposed, this marriage joined 
 With him who me hath ruined — and thence joined 
 Much more to shame and misery than to him 
 Shall e'er be joined. How with him could I live. 
 And him regard with reverence, who hath wronged 
 Against my good? yet fresh indignity 
 Hath added, deeplier fixed the sting of shame, 
 By this which now from him is moved — a union, 
 Yet no just marriage, no true wedlock bands. 
 Rather the bonds of hate — such death in life 
 I thence with him should lead, if thus were joined. 
 
 Leah. Daughter, what is past hope is not past cure. 
 For, grant thy life afflicted, broken, worn 
 With ruin, yet of us thou still shouldst think, 
 Thy parents, whose thy duty is and service. 
 If we think here to work thy good, and gain 
 Advantage to thy benefit, despise not 
 Our counsel, nor our purpose thus forego. 
 Though life no pleasure show, no glad delight, 
 Nor even content, settled content, yet think 
 That we intend what best for thee, advantage 
 Hoped for thy good, which thus our purpose seeks. 
 If thou shalt slack our counsel, and shalt seize not 
 Occasion to thy good, which offers here. 
 What wilt thou? Idle on the household hearth 
 Burdenous to sit, afflicted, broken, tortured 
 The more that thou didst not the chance then grasp. 
 When chance presented, to appease thy wrongs. 
 Thus thou shalt sink to querulous old age 
 Outworn, and vexed that wedlock was not thine. 
 Blaming thy own perversity which took not 
 What chance for wedlock once to thee was offered. 
 And mourning shalt thou walk in loveless age. 
 Life undesired, though wont desired by all, 
 
 [60] 
 
And death, oft prayed, found tardy in approach. 
 Then shalt thou truly suffer scorn, bemocked 
 By wives, who children bear, thence happy, honored, 
 Marking thy folly thus and perverse shame. 
 These reasons then should win thee to thy good, 
 Heartening thee to bear what ills thou hast. 
 None added, that thou more of grief shouldst bear. 
 But if, as seems, these win thee not, let win thee 
 Persuaders of more powder. My tears thou seest ; 
 Let these prevail with thee where reason could not. 
 Thou art my daughter, thou my darling, thou 
 From me hadst being. Whom shouldst thou regard 
 But me? whom favor? I will bring thee soon. 
 Where thou shalt find again thy ravished peace, 
 That what thou hast lost by me shall be restored. 
 Thus thou shalt have a husband, I a son. 
 
 Dinah. I had no thoughts to have answered thee; but 
 thou 
 Hast brought to bear reasons more powerful 
 Than reason, that perforce I yield. Thy tears, 
 More valid arguments than words, have won me 
 Vanquished by mastering importunity. 
 Do as thou wilt; thou seest it in thy hand. 
 
 Leah. I thought discretion better would instruct thee 
 And raise thy mind to higher thoughts, esteeming 
 Thy own advantage worthier, weighed in value 
 Of heavier scale — as this event hath proved, 
 Showing thee not from reason all estranged. 
 But I must hence, and see all things prepared 
 That to the happy spousal rite pertain. 
 Thou therefore rise, and come with me along. 
 That I may have thee heartened and new-clad, 
 To appear as best becomes a spousal bride. 
 Rise then and come. Thy body needs refreshment; 
 Refreshment after pain, food after toil. 
 That hath been tired all night without repose, 
 Wherein thou hast endured vicissitudes. 
 Hard changes, to the dews and damps exposed 
 Unsheltered, which unseemly have disordered 
 Thy beauty, comeliness, and maiden grace. 
 
 [6i] 
 
Dinah. No, no; it fits not that thou take such care 
 Of my condition. Better suit me now 
 These rags defiled, this base degree of shame 
 To which I now am sunk. Why should I seek 
 Ease for the body thus, not for the mind 
 From vexing thoughts, which gather head, that thence 
 Body's distress be felt not in the mind's? 
 And why speak'st thou of beauty, once my pride? 
 My beauty was my snare, provoking theft 
 Of what to me than beauty dearer far. 
 Then leave me as I am, fitly adorned 
 For spousals such as mine, such ornaments 
 And bridal trappings as may well befit 
 These happy nuptial rites and wedlock-bands. 
 A bride's best ornaments are purity, 
 Fair unstained honor, virgin innocence; 
 Which if I wear, what fault in me appears. 
 Arrayed as best becomes a virgin bride? 
 At least whate'er adornments I may have. 
 That may commend me in my husband's sight, 
 Are his bestowing, and should please him best. 
 Who, ere his purchase, knows his bargain got. 
 If he will seek me thus, and thence esteem me, 
 I shall have better heart to go along 
 With him who now my lord and head becomes. 
 Thus I shall have a husband, thou a son. 
 
 Leah. I see thy mind is much by passion wrought, 
 And desperate through grief; thou hadst not else 
 Disdained the wont adornments of the bride. 
 
 Dinah. Such honorable usage as I had 
 From him who weds me; which, if thus he like not, 
 Loads yet no blame on other than himself. 
 
 Leah. If thou wilt take such thought to scorn thyself, 
 So far forget thy honor, as to draw 
 New shame and scorn by such course thus untoward 
 To wisdom found, I care not, but will go 
 Where I shall other welcome find, more fit, 
 As suits a mother. Scorn with scorn I pay, 
 Folly will match with folly. So, farewell. 
 
 [62] 
 
Cho. She's gone, as much in grief and vexed with 
 wrath. 
 
 Dinah. So let her go, who only sought my harm 
 Unwisely — ^to my good though here intending — 
 And worse dishonor, by these nuptials joined. 
 
 Cho. Yet wedlock is for woman her highest state, 
 Her happiest, cheered by husband's love obtained. 
 And children's — bonds that tie her with such joy 
 As women most are willing to endure. 
 
 Dinah. If wedlock honorable, the sentence holds. 
 Where, matched with like, love hath an equal mate; 
 But not here, where no true affection stands — 
 Starved thus, and perished ere its timely birth. 
 Where lust hath so obtained, love cannot come. 
 
 Cho. Dark are the ways of man 
 And darkly endued 
 
 His purpose, from right counsels found astray, 
 Awry with ill, depraved 
 
 To worst abuse, which all unsought alights, 
 Unmerited, upon his steps. 
 By nets of evil closed, pent in and drawn 
 To lot unfortunate and shameful end; 
 That grief with sorrow feeds the mind 
 Harassed with doubts, perplexed, 
 Impossible to solve 
 The riddle hard of life. 
 
 Semi-cho. For oft on those whom God's edicts divine 
 Ordained in highest place. 
 By favor found his chosen 
 And special people held. 
 These he alike subjects to hard event, ^ 
 Though dignified with honor of his choice. 
 Nor aught of difference weighs 
 Without their known default 
 Than on those visited whose deeds of ill 
 Had fitly his anger induced 
 And wrath well merited for impious acts, 
 
 [63] 
 
His ministers of fierce destruction called 
 On them devote to ruin. 
 
 Semi-cho. Else had not fallen thy lot such evil chance 
 Painful, distressful, vile, 
 With loss of virgin shame. 
 That now torments thee w^ith affliction sore 
 And grievous lack of honor, 
 With those torturing pains 
 Of stinging anguish fierce and vexing grief, 
 That pierce thus near thy heart. 
 
 Cho. But now toward us I see thy brothers tend. 
 As here perhaps thus come to share thy grief, 
 Condoling with thee what hard chance thou hast. 
 Prepare forthwith to receive them. 
 
 Dinah. Or this or not, with shame to me they are 
 come. 
 
 Levi. We come thus, sister, to bemoan thy chance, 
 As all who learn, and wish it had not been. 
 For think not on thyself all grief alights, 
 Though of its burden thou hast heavier share, 
 But also we have sorrow that afflicts us 
 Alike as thine; which to relieve in part, 
 If aught of comfort found in solace given, 
 Behold us come. Say therefore what now done. 
 That may relieve thy sorrow, raise thy mind 
 With grief thus found distressed and grievous hurt. 
 
 Dinah. If words might solace or beguile my wounds, 
 They had been cured. For I such surfeit have 
 Of speech intended healing, (and yet naught 
 Of help affording) as might well induce 
 Relief or cure. Yet deeds might heal my griefs. 
 For now my parents purpose thence to join 
 In wedlock thus distasteful me to him, 
 My ravisher, who hath destroyed my peace. 
 But vainly do they purpose thus, unthought. 
 Rather shall I endure to die, than live 
 With him, in that iniquitous city left, 
 
 [64] 
 
Which knows my wrong, and shall behold my shame, 
 
 A daily torture^ never-ending death, 
 
 That death itself endured before such lot 
 
 Accurst, calamitous, abject, afflicted. 
 
 Whence now from you I ask, since others fail, 
 
 Some aid in counsel or fit deed supplied, 
 
 That may with hopes present some chance to scape 
 
 This worst of miseries that my life might bear. 
 
 My life, thick-sown with griefs, I value not — 
 
 Lose rather, than preserve to such ill end. 
 
 Yet why do I complain, and show my griefs? 
 
 For so it must be — man shall woman wrong, 
 
 And woman wronged endure. Whence it shall fall. 
 
 That I shall draw out miserable days 
 
 With him, a noxious bosom-snake, entangled, 
 
 If I by self-destruction cut not off 
 
 My end — a better than with him to join. 
 
 Simeon. Peace, sister ; be not o'ercome by thy evils, 
 But overcome thy evils with strong hopes 
 Of good from thence obtained, or at the least 
 Of some fit recompense from wrought revenge, 
 As suits thy outrage vile. Life is not lost; 
 And until that be reft despair not all, 
 Nor slack occasion to redress thy wrongs ; 
 Whose satisfaction we ourselves must work, 
 If we would have. For I this day our father 
 Have with solicitation wrought, to bring 
 Upon our part, with wished consent obtained 
 Of strict revenge upon our enemies. 
 I have approached him, tried him, urged him hard. 
 Adjured by all the ties of dear relation 
 And of religion, duty, honor, virtue. 
 To join with us, or at the least forbid not, 
 If seeking out some opportunity 
 Or apt occasion found to our revenge. 
 But he persisted deaf, and would not hear me, 
 With strict refusal, dreading what might fall 
 From slack compliance. Hence, If we desire not 
 Ever such scorn to bear, contempt, such hatred. 
 Debased to such ill shame, our foes' derision. 
 We on ourselves must now depend, to gain 
 
 [65] 
 
What wished advantage found to scape our grief. 
 What we should do lies not in long debate; 
 But how alone, and when, remain to answer. 
 
 Levi. In shrewd disasters caught behooves wise 
 caution, 
 Lest in such toils and ill-considered snares 
 But worse entangled — not only all revenge 
 Foregoing, but with serious doubt ensnared 
 If thence escaped — not all in folly wrecked. 
 
 Simeon. Brother, in much unequal scale thou hast 
 weighed 
 Our danger, from far other quarter fearest 
 Irruption, than what reason justly shows. 
 Our greatest peril is not that success 
 We fail, but that we tamely thus endure. 
 Without attempt, our loaded grief and shame. 
 Hath it escaped thee what unhappy plight 
 We now possess, suffering such bitter change, 
 Before unthought? Four days' space now is passed, 
 Since first our sister, innocent of ill. 
 Went forth to see the daughters of this land, 
 And in their city caught her grievous hurt 
 Which hath undone her, shaming us to think ; 
 While we have thus endured without protest 
 Of word or action; or, if aught protested. 
 As though it were not. While our father, more 
 To heap our shame, as though enough not harmed. 
 Hath leagued him with the rulers of this land, 
 Deaf to our wishes as the shore to surge, 
 Passing that vile affront and outrage foul 
 Of maiden innocence unwilling forced, 
 That so hath touched us with the sting of shame; 
 And hath bestowed our sister as reward 
 On him who hath our sorrow thus induced ; 
 Whom for our sister's sake I will not name. 
 And this I mention, not that I would add 
 To our affliction, but that I might raise thee 
 To temper thus heroic that will chafe 
 Under such insult done and shameful scorn. 
 What think'st thou? Wilt thou tamely thus endure, 
 
 [ 66 ] 
 
Or art thou apt with me to some revenge 
 That may despoil our wrong and foil our ill, 
 Wreaking upon our wronger hurt unthought? 
 Occasion winks on opportunity, 
 Beckoning soon perhaps some bold attempt, 
 Such a discomfit as shall blank them quite 
 And with confusion damp their mockery. 
 
 Dinah. Leave such proposal, brother; spare the danger 
 Of such attempt. But let me rather mourn 
 My lost virginity and maiden peace, 
 Neglected thus, thrown into much contempt, 
 Or joined w^ith him, my ravisher, to live 
 Days undesired, in direst misery, 
 Abhorred of all and shunned. What of me yet 
 Remains think not of so much value held 
 As to beguile to perilous enterprise 
 Those who commiserate and with me mourn. 
 For soon shall death, wherever found, seize on me, 
 Or, he not come, I in some way shall find 
 Escape from life thus bitter, undesired ; 
 Content in this, if with my own I draw not 
 Ruin to others, in like pains cut off. 
 For certain is my purpose fixed to die, 
 Unless some satisfaction found, some forfeit, 
 He shall exchange, who thus hath found me, ruined me, 
 Destroyed, and now would worse dishonor heap 
 Upon my shame — yoked in such heavy yoke 
 Of wedlock loathsome, hateful, vile, distressed — 
 But added insult on my shame now fixed. 
 Perhaps myself shall chance on some revenge, 
 Or else devise, suitable to my mind, 
 That may convert my woes, and like bring down 
 Discomfit and destruction, now unthought, 
 On him who hath contemned and like despised 
 My griefs. Howe'er may chance, my presage is 
 That I some hard occasion to revenge 
 On him shall find, or shortly be at rest. 
 Surviving not the attempt to blot quite out 
 All my dishonor or my hated life. 
 
 Levi. It hath not scaped me, brother, what sore plight 
 
 [67] 
 
Hath late possessed us, that we suffer change 
 
 Grievous to bear, and now in sad event 
 
 Liker to prove far worse than first was feared. 
 
 Of outcome ill, healing not thus what breach 
 
 Upon our honor offered. These three days 
 
 Who of us hath gone forth, or dared to show 
 
 His face? How have not all, who heard, reviled 
 
 Our lot, and cast upon us all reproach. 
 
 Our sister shamed? Yet wherein have we healed 
 
 Our diseased honor? Thou art not more apt 
 
 To point revenge, than I to follow thence. 
 
 If they will threaten war, let them have war; 
 
 Better a just war than an unjust peace. 
 
 And who besides hath blame, except ourselves. 
 
 If this despite, this hurt, unpunished scape? 
 
 Which must not be. Doubt not, but we shall find 
 
 Some plan, occasion, some consenting time. 
 
 Both to avenge our wrongs, and thence pluck down 
 
 Upon our foes like sorrow and contempt. 
 
 If we but sudden courage seize, we may 
 
 Boldly assault the ravisher in his hold. 
 
 Yet come off safe. But let not slack forbearance 
 
 Eat out the heart of shrewd intent, which urges 
 
 To enterprise us. While we speak he lives. 
 
 Simeon. With wisdom hast thou spoken. Only hence 
 Run not upon the worse extreme, and draw 
 Peril unthought from slack discretion found, 
 Or error — which might dash our hope secure 
 Of wished advantage to their ruin found. 
 Hence let us not slack here aught vigilance 
 In effort, but approve our vengeance thought 
 By safety to ourselves, when once obtained. 
 For what avails our recompense, if we 
 Pull down the same destruction on ourselves 
 As on our enemies visited with dismay? 
 Which must not be, but makes against our purpose. 
 Yet, on the other, let not slackened courage 
 Put us too much from venture, howe'er chanced. 
 Much better shall we choose to bear some risk 
 In effort, something close or open try, 
 Than she in that pernicious city left; 
 
 [68] 
 
Whence plan or guile Invented that may serve 
 To stir them to their peril, with such diet 
 In surfeit gained, as may approve their bane, 
 Ravening their own ruin. Whence I bethink 
 That in the city all their males inhabit 
 Yet sore from circumcision (which my care 
 Had pains to be effected) that affords 
 Occasion sly and opportunity 
 Of onset or adventure on them tried, 
 Boldly upon them come, unwarned, surprised. 
 Which on them may bechance with much dire ruin, 
 And quell their pride, who thus have sore affronted 
 Our honor — to our foes' dismay attempted: 
 Which is both victory and dread revenge. 
 
 Levi. I see thou art not slow-paced to some revenge 
 That may requite our harm, and us redeem 
 From stain of injured honor, wilt not slack 
 To wipe our blot of infamy. But what plan 
 Or scheme hast thou that may advantage here, 
 And rase the mark of our indignity? 
 Thou seest our number few ; and what in might 
 Have we against so many, if provoked 
 And stirred with harm? Hence now discretion needs 
 With caution to our purpose entertained 
 Of shame and hatred In their ruin quenched. 
 
 Simeon, What plan advantaged here let opportunity 
 With time consent. Some chance, be sure, will rise. 
 Or we can find device of stratagem 
 Apt to our purpose. I do not fear more 
 Time and occasion lacking to our need 
 Than courage to lay hold upon occasion 
 And seize Its forelock — bald Indeed behind 
 It comes, and hard to grasp, but easily 
 May be approached before, and mastered thence. 
 Yet so, be sure, in nothing to induce 
 Our own desert In danger; for herein 
 That plan approves as best, which foresight takes 
 Of its own safety — lacking that, foregone, 
 As but the hazard of its own destruction. 
 But use we here discretion, and not passion, 
 
 [69] 
 
To rule our counsels joined. Anger, like rain, 
 Breaks but itself by what it falls upon ; 
 But wise discretion reaches its sure aim. 
 Yet is not gored by reflex of the stroke. 
 Whence, sister, thou must herein give consent, 
 Though unwillingly, to part with him along, 
 As toward the city to the marriage-feast ; 
 Thence we shall follow, and in safest hope 
 Boldly upon them venture there, and slay, 
 Swording it through the city, till not one 
 Shall yet alive remain, nor tongue to boast 
 What ruin and confusion on thee brought. 
 Which shall revenge indeed, and well repay 
 What thou hast suffered, what reproach we bear, 
 And teach our enemies not much to hope 
 Escape, or think to shun what punishment, 
 If they on us indignity presume. 
 
 Levi. With deeds, not words, we mean herein to try 
 What our power is, or right — our clear intent 
 Let action speak, the loudest orator. 
 To cheat occasion, with the time consent. 
 And let it not abate us that, we lack 
 Numbers, experience, and warlike skill. 
 Our vigor is the justice of our cause, 
 Which more avails than coats of stoutest proof; 
 This lacked, disarmed they fight, though locked in mail. 
 
 Simeon. But now bethink; for open lies this place, 
 Nor far withdrawn from sound, or close espial, 
 Which well betrays our speech, if any mark, 
 And loud disquiet. Whence retire befits 
 To secrecy, herein our best ally. 
 Thou, sister, the meantime, slight not all aids 
 To safety, which discretion holds. While we 
 Abroad shall venture forth, to enterprise 
 The means of thy revenge ; that thou not thence 
 Shalt hold us slack, or froward from our aim. 
 
 Cho. What hopes of aid in this thou hast, set forth, 
 That we, who shared thy sorrow, share thy joy. 
 Since woman most a woman's trouble feels. 
 
 [70] 
 
Dinah. Your purpose, friends, is kindly, and approves 
 What former care ye had for my distress. 
 But be not like the summer-seeming friend. 
 Vanishing, as the fickle flies of spring, 
 When threatened storm is nigh. But to my aid 
 Give silence and close circumspection sly, 
 Lest some ill-greeting failure shall attempt 
 Our purpose tried, converting all to ruin; 
 Which must not be, if we would gain revenge. 
 
 Cho. Doubt not; this much we promise thee in aid. 
 
 Dinah. Thence more to you in grateful debt I stand. 
 Which my sincerest joy shall recompense 
 When satisfied the great accompt I have 
 Toward him, who wrought on me this direst harm, 
 Ravishing thus my shame and virgin peace. 
 
 Cho. O folly! to pervert Heaven-gifted powers 
 With worst abuse thus to their meanest use, 
 Which God intends to reason should be subject, 
 Nor over reason evilly thus usurp ! 
 
 Dinah. For on him justly is repaid the sin 
 Which he hath sinned, yielding with loosened lust 
 To an ungoverned and wild appetite, 
 With unthought grief in surfeit crammed and gorged. 
 
 Cho. O glorious means endued, the gift of Heaven, 
 As God thus late hath raised 
 For thy complete deliverance 
 Unquenchable force ordained 
 To quell the boisterous violence of evil men. 
 When, in his mighty purpose 
 And counsel high decreed 
 Upon those enemies and proud insulters 
 To wreak his vengeful wrath, 
 From ashes rousing into sudden flame. 
 He, all their strength and mighty feats contemning. 
 On them surprised, amazed. 
 Struck from defense. 
 His furious purpose sends, 
 
 [71] 
 
Whelming them, spent and lost, thus high distract, 
 In the tempest of Heaven's affliction. 
 
 Semi-cho. Yet so deliverance high he oft delays, 
 Postpones his mighty counsel 
 And purpose great decreed 
 Upon his people held. 
 The trial of their patient faith esteemed 
 And tested fortitude, 
 
 Till suffering and endurance prove their faith 
 Victorious over all 
 
 The tyranny of chance may them allot. 
 That in the end his counsel wise appear 
 Upon his chosen ordained, 
 Whom high reward for purpose resolute 
 And patient fortitude must crown. 
 
 Semi-cho. Which chance on thee perhaps by God 
 ordained. 
 Thus in his purpose wise 
 By evil sorrows burdened 
 Above the lot of men; 
 Which yet may he avert 
 From thee, and thence to good 
 As high, as low to evil now, upraise 
 Thy swooning spirits depressed. 
 Turning thy sorrows to some hopeful end. 
 
 CJio. But now I see thy father here approach 
 With tardy steps — perhaps thus come to gain 
 Thy doubtful purpose ; for with him I see 
 The ruiner of thy state, who such annoy 
 To thee hath wrought, yet now perhaps would seek 
 Forgiveness, and move pardon for his fault. 
 His action bears remorse, his mien repentance. 
 What his intent may chance, we now shall learn. 
 
 Dinah. Or thus or not, alike to me they come. 
 
 Jacob. With hesitating thoughts and doubtful purpose, 
 As moved herein by thy affliction, daughter, 
 I come with hopes of benefit accomplished 
 Perhaps to thee; and with me I have brought 
 
 [72] 
 
Whom thus thou seest, who now desires to join thee 
 His wife. Which comfortable hope affords 
 To thy desired relief. Whence hear him speak. 
 
 Dinah. His wife? my ruin! let him not approach me! 
 
 Shechem. With doubtful hopes and lagging resolution, 
 Dinah, I come, still fearful of thy hatred, 
 Which I have justly drawn by my own act, 
 Meriting well thy fierce displeasure heaped 
 Upon my fault, which I could wish not done, 
 So ill the consequence to thee derived. 
 But powerful love hath thus to thee impelled me, 
 Once more to see thy face and view thy state, 
 Which now thus sad I see, and like repine 
 Thy hard condition. This hath moved me then, 
 (For so of thee had come such ill report) 
 With hopes of reparation made perhaps 
 For my too hasty deed. Whence now proposed 
 This honorable marriage with thee joined — 
 As to thy parents thou know'st late was moved — 
 (Nor all unwillingly by thee deemed heard) 
 Which may perhaps redeem thy forfeit state 
 And thee in former place of honor set — 
 Tardy amends, yet all within my power 
 Of satisfaction for my rash misdeed. 
 
 Dinah. To salve my honor I could better choose 
 My choice, than thee — thus brutish, bestial, lustful, 
 My outrage who with cruelty hast wrought. 
 
 Shechem. Bid me not thus despair; but in thy face, 
 Wherein the heaven of mercy I behold, 
 Let glimpses of some happier fortune shine. 
 
 Dinah. What ear thou gavest to my prayers, when I 
 Besought thee not with ruin thus to harm me 
 And force my maiden fortress, give I thine. 
 
 Shechem. Repulse me not thus, Dinah; but still hear 
 me. 
 While I to thee such forceful plea shall move, 
 So powerful, weighty, pleasing, as may well 
 
 [73] 
 
Convince thee that I then no harm intended — 
 By gusty passion hurried to that deed — 
 And now to thee motion what highest good 
 I unto thee may offer, with intent 
 To salve thy wounded hurt, and quite redeem 
 The blot thy name hath taken with foul stain. 
 
 Dinah. Hence from my sight, thou serpent, that hath 
 stung 
 With poisonous tooth my honor, whose dire hurt 
 No balm or healing cure may medicine, 
 That e'er it show as fair as then it showed 
 Ere thee I saw, my lecherous ravisher. 
 My dearest enemy, my direst harm. 
 Who ruined me — seek'st but to ruin more, 
 Upon whom shall contempt and hatred sit 
 Throughout all time, defamed with evil shame 
 Of maiden honor ravished, virgin peace. 
 Which hath exposed me to such chilling hatred 
 Of those who hear — pointed with all contempt 
 And hateful scorn. Boast of thy venom foul. 
 That hath polluted me, and stained my name 
 With such dishonor, with such blot accurst ; 
 But think not thus to charm me to my harm 
 With cunning spell of words; thy double tongue 
 On me can have no power, its strength is nulled, 
 That I should mind thee, or to thee give ear — 
 Yet worse esteemed, debased, abhorred, and vile, 
 If I endure to pass thy heinous crime. 
 And gloss it with the added stain of wife 
 To thee conjoined — wilful dishonor done 
 To my own self by my own hand, thence worse 
 Than what thou hast done, as though I had consented 
 In what thou hast done, which me hath so undone. 
 Thus much from thee of serpent I have gained. 
 That I am deaf to these thy sweet persuasions. 
 Stopping my ear to all thy flatteries. 
 
 Shechem. Let me but touch thy hand in sign of par- 
 don. 
 
 Dinah, Take not possession of me by a look. 
 No ; ravish other virgins for thy wives, 
 
 [74] 
 
Who glory in such shame, but think not me 
 
 Ever to draw to such defilement foul, 
 
 With bait of honeyed words beguiled to folly, 
 
 Dishonor, which should prove my chiefest shame. 
 
 And which I Intend on me not thus is done. 
 
 If In my flower of beauty, when all admired me. 
 
 Loved, cherished me, respected, sought me, served me, 
 
 Thou only couldst contemn me and despise me. 
 
 Force me to hard condition, last insult me. 
 
 Pretending by thy love for me compelled 
 
 To do what thou hast done, If thou couldst this. 
 
 How wouldst thou soon my trampled beauty scorn, 
 
 How slight, disfavor ! How wouldst thou insult me. 
 
 Exult upon me, scorn me, hate, neglect me. 
 
 Taunting me with the stain of virgin name 
 
 Defaced, deflowered, thence cheap by thee esteemed! 
 
 Yet now to pity wouldst thou make pretense, 
 
 And softened heart! No pity could make tender 
 
 Thy calloused heart! Thy shifts and feigned devices 
 
 Open appear, and show thy love how false. 
 
 I see thee, serpent, what thou art — a heart 
 
 Treacherous as hard, the snake beneath the rock. 
 
 What peace with thee were found, what pleasure, honor. 
 
 Who sought me out, since fair, then cruelly robbed me. 
 
 At time when life wont most with joy be found. 
 
 Of all my honor, virtue, virgin peace 
 
 Violated, then thrust me forth despoiled, 
 
 Naked of Innocence, of hope, of good 
 
 Reft, and ashamed before my enemy? 
 
 Think not that aught shall ever tempt my feet, 
 
 That I should enter in thy doors, a wife 
 
 Thus wronged. Insulted, shamed, dishonored, scorned. 
 
 Visited with contempt, the worst disgrace 
 
 With evil that my life could e'er befall. 
 
 Shechem. Yet hear me speak, nor causelessly reject 
 My offered sorrow for my deed misdone. 
 Which cannot now undo. Hence but remains 
 To seek what means may heal thy hurt, and thee 
 Restore to place of honor, set thee high 
 In all men's sight. Be not, as thy great shame 
 Constrains thee now, stubborn as steel, austere, 
 
 [75] 
 
Set on revengeful spite, severe in thoughts 
 Toward him who loves thee and would now repair 
 The damage to thy name, unweeting wrought — 
 Rigorous for my default, but rather learn 
 What cure may best thy sore hurts now avail 
 With healing, mindless all of what is past, 
 That what I reft thou easily shalt spare. 
 
 Dinah. Out, jackal, out! who didst not then relent 
 To leave thy horrid purpose, when thou forced'st me 
 To act of lust distasteful, scandalous^ 
 Pernicious to my honor! What had love 
 In thee, or how thy purpose aught impelled, 
 When thou didst thus constrain me to thy wish, 
 Rifling my virgin store? But love thou call'st it, 
 The urging and impulse of powerful love! 
 Thy lust it was, thy lecherous lust it was, 
 That made me — what I am — ^which hath no name, 
 Thus beneath all contempt reduced, below 
 All shame, disgust, and loathing. Is it now love, 
 Is it now love become, thy plea thus changed, 
 That I should like it more than when it robbed 
 Me of my peace^ destroyed my honor, left me 
 A target to the constant dart of scorn? 
 But love thou hast degraded with such name 
 Affixed to lust thus hateful. Love seeks love ; 
 Not with rank violation and hot shame. 
 The hateful and unholy use of lust, 
 But with just honor paid and jealous awe 
 Upon its object guarded with due care 
 From harm betided — not, as thou hast done, 
 Working to raise inexpiable contempt, 
 Knowing, as needs thou should, so disregarding 
 The honor due to love. Still canst thou plead 
 That love impelled thee, urged thee, forced thee on? 
 For, had thy love been, as it ought, sincere, 
 It would have taught thee other, other deeds 
 Would have brought forth, than insult to the honor 
 And name of virgin, as thou here hast done. 
 Yet now wouldst cloak thy deed, veil it, thus foul. 
 With the fair guise of love ! How wilt thou here 
 Varnish thy plea, that bare in guilt thus shows? 
 
 [76] 
 
Shechem. Yet hear me, Dinah; not that I excuse 
 My fault, or value less thy ill received, 
 That great ofFense from me, but that I still 
 Have heart to move such plea, as moved before, 
 Of love to thee constraining (though I took 
 Manner unkind to manifest my love) 
 Humbly with penitence and pardon sought. 
 That thou mayest know how much I now repent 
 My sad misdoing, when, I know not whence. 
 Such impulse mad and fierce desire possessed me 
 To taste thee and enjoy thee, found by chance. 
 Unknown, whom I, by sudden passion forced. 
 The effect of love working some violent way, 
 Constrained thus to my liking and thy hurt. 
 And then I knew thee not — for, had I known th-ee, 
 Be sure some way I had found out to know 
 Thy parents, and from them in haste desired 
 Thee as my wife, in wedlock fair conjoined. 
 Must it be then my punishment determined. 
 That, when I now have found thee and have gained 
 Thy parents to my wish, I thence must lose thee. 
 To lose thee when I scarce had rightly found thee, 
 Foregoing in thee all delight, once hoped, 
 All converse, that I might to thee display 
 My sorrow and regret for what I did. 
 Thy ruin, which hath also drawn my pain. 
 My sorrow — which I did not so intend, 
 Impelled by passion mad and blind desire. 
 That thus hath wrought thy ruin and reproach. 
 If to my purpose thou not willing yield? 
 Forego then what intent thou hast of hatred 
 And distance toward me ; let me find some way. 
 Though late, to recompense, what in my power. 
 The great harm on thee I am charged to have done. 
 
 Dinah. Since thou art minded thus to recompense 
 Thy harm on me, no better way I know 
 Than to give o'er thy seeking, thus through love 
 Impelling, to this act now motioning on. 
 As thou averrest. If love be thy object. 
 Love to thyself, as love from self thou givest. 
 Elsewhere, another woman for thy wife 
 
 [77] 
 
Seek out, not me, who ne'er toward thee can know 
 
 The love thou seekest. Should I now accept 
 
 Thy plea as true of love toward me impelling 
 
 When thou didst what thou didst, that could not raise 
 
 Love toward thyself in me, nor aught abate 
 
 What hate toward thee I hold. The w^ont effect 
 
 Of hatred and of hateful deeds is hate. 
 
 Not love, not honor for dishonor, reverence 
 
 For shame, not liking for dislike, distaste. 
 
 A harvest like thy seed thou shouldst expect. 
 
 Sow love, thou shalt reap love; sow hate and scorn. 
 
 Then scorn thou garnerest, scorn, repulse, and hate. 
 
 Thou wouldst not think in wedlock fair to join, 
 
 Or wish thy wife, one so pernicious found, 
 
 Destructive, to thy peace, reminding thee 
 
 Thy constant shame — which most should work thy shame. 
 
 Thou must with other plea attempt my mind, 
 
 More consonant with reason, more adjudged 
 
 To soothe discretion, than what now thou hast, 
 
 Contrary to all kindness, reason, justice. 
 
 Or favor, by this plea but outraged worse. 
 
 Approve thy plea with reason, that my reason 
 
 Thence may approve thy plea; which reason is. 
 
 Shechem. Then further hear me. Since love moves 
 thee not. 
 Love, held the highest aim of human life. 
 Rigorous of sway in human hearts, and most 
 Of force adjudged in woman, who loves most 
 And most for love will venture, then let move thee 
 Motive more valid deemed to reason found. 
 More apt, that thence thy reason may approve. 
 Though thou hast scorned my love, and treated thence 
 With harsh neglect, against life's canon law, 
 (For to be loved is sure the first delight — 
 To love, not less) yet reason thou mayest not 
 So readily, if it consort with prudence, 
 With wisdom, skill, discretion. For but think. 
 If love be not admitted, nor considered, 
 As to the mind distasteful, offered thus. 
 What still may be accomplished, what still done, 
 To lighten what thou bearest, satisfying, 
 
 [78] 
 
With what amends I have, thy loaded shame. 
 
 Thou shalt not wisely disregard my words 
 
 As idle judged, vexatious, futile, fond. 
 
 First, as it was my weakness, not thy sin, 
 
 I on myself all blame transfer, and beg 
 
 What time and opportunity may offer 
 
 To make amends for what I have misdone. 
 
 Misguided. Then, since once the deed is done 
 
 Beyond undoing, whether good or ill. 
 
 Thou mayest not alter, nor to change contrive 
 
 (Since done none can undo, nor past recall), 
 
 What can it still avail that thou shouldst bear 
 
 So sensibly as not such reparation 
 
 Offered to accept? — deemed only madness then 
 
 Idly to mourn thy heavy chance, nor change 
 
 What in thy power now shows. Though thou shouldst 
 
 rain 
 Rivers of tears, thou canst not wash thy grief. 
 Let us leave what is past — as known past cure. 
 So past bewailing known — and to the present 
 Entrust our joy, mindless of what is done. 
 And hopeful what the future holds in store. 
 If reason, not love, induced thee to reject, 
 As fond, what offer tendered late by love. 
 Let reason, not love, now move thee to accept 
 What for thy name recovered reason offers. 
 
 Jacob. Daughter, if tender love toward thee may 
 venture 
 Thus far, and not reap sole repulse and scorn, 
 Like, if thou canst, this offer, since the best 
 That now is hoped, nor fondly thus reject 
 What tendered good thou seest; perhaps withdrawn. 
 If thou despitefully mistreat with scorn. 
 
 Shechem. I know not how my words may be received, 
 If further ventured ; but discretion still 
 For thee obtains, if thou stop not thy ear 
 Now to her voice. Though thou hast many wrongs 
 And grievous, heavy, hard indeed to bear. 
 Wrong not thyself still worse by proud rejection 
 Had to my suit, that offers thee thy name 
 
 [79] 
 
And fame recovered ; nor, as now thou showest, 
 Be thus contemptuous, proud, austere as steel, 
 Rigorous for my offense, but rather choose 
 What cure may best avail to close thy wounds; 
 That thou mayest, if in mercy not excel. 
 In prudence and in wise discretion so. 
 
 Dinah. The view of thee doth still offend my eyes 
 With blasting sight! O that the piercing thorn 
 Of painful blindness might destroy that sense, 
 That I might never see thee more, once seen 
 To my destruction, whom I now must see 
 Both day and night — a horror but to think! 
 Yet, worse, shall thee embrace, my husband, deemed 
 The partner of my heart, and solace dear! 
 O place, wherein I lost my virtuous shame 
 And virgin honor, must I then consent 
 To see, and not once only, but through life. 
 That darkest spot accurst, wherein I lost 
 Both name and virgin blame, and with him live. 
 My ravisher, the ruin of my peace? 
 Yet now who proffers peace, unthinking aught 
 What horror stands between us, what disgust. 
 Our firstborn offspring, gendered and conceived 
 In lust, inbred by hate, before their time 
 In loathing now delivered and in shame. 
 That sharp distaste shall still possess us linked 
 As to a lewd and loathly corpse of death. 
 Much gladlier would I die than live with him, 
 My ravisher, who bred my quickening shame. 
 The sight of whom shall vex me day by day, 
 A life's long dying to augment my grief, 
 A lifelong death. Yet what avail my words? 
 Since death, who sets all free with glad release. 
 Shall here be foiled, for still my shame shall live. 
 Though I be dead, my fair inheritance 
 And monument that shall forever stand. 
 Living or dying then, what succor found. 
 Or solace to my hopes, that I should scape 
 Shame, my tormentor, that thus suffers not 
 My anguish to assuage, or thoughts to rest? 
 This lingering fever, this disease of shame, 
 
 [So] 
 
Which in my body lurks and banishes 
 
 The sense of peace, in me must ever live. 
 
 O virgin spousal bed, w^hich I had hopes 
 
 One day I should possess, and there enjoy 
 
 Embrace of him, my solace and delight, 
 
 Whom I could love; and thence with joy bring forth 
 
 Fair beauteous offspring chaste, to whom should cling 
 
 No shame, as from a mother bad derives ! 
 
 What dowry shall I bring ye, daughters ! sons, 
 
 Fair heritage your mother now bestows! 
 
 But go I must; and what avails to mourn? 
 
 Cho. O wretched chance thou fallest upon, 
 Dinah, with woes endued 
 Above the lot of men ! 
 
 Which that thou shalt endure, may God afford 
 Patience and helpful grace, 
 
 Heartening thee to endure what ills thou bearest. 
 That thou mayst conquer all 
 The tyranny of shame on thee allots. 
 And last be numbered found of those 
 Whom patience gloriously shall crown ; 
 Since in the hand of God the issue lies. 
 
 Jacob. O friends, small hope of consolation here 
 May seem, or solace — such unhappy chance 
 Hath seized my child, and in me now begets 
 Dire grief, plucking from me that pleasing hope 
 In her perhaps to have received some surety 
 Of honor all unwonted on me found — 
 Return unsuitable adjudged from God 
 For so much faith that trusted thus in all. 
 Who now could pray for children, valuing 
 The stain of barrenness as a reproach, 
 Or curse of God, when sorrows such as mine 
 May seize a parent and depress with grief? 
 Or are such gifts, desirable appearing. 
 Only of doubtful good, and offered thus 
 To tempt our wishful prayers, but draw a sting, 
 Sharp as a serpent's tooth, to wound the mind? 
 Alas, not so to me as good appears 
 That whom God's choice hath chosen thus and reared 
 
 [8i] 
 
To grace and favor, should be thus o'erwhelmed, 
 Be it but for sake of former honor given ! 
 
 Cho. Deject not utterly; nor thus arraign 
 God's providence, and Heavenly disposition. 
 Which yet perhaps may turn the works of men, 
 Though evil now appearing, to some good. 
 Working herein the trial of thy faith 
 With richer grace bestowed, when from such ill 
 God shall ordain on thee some benefit, 
 Returning for thy evil certain good. 
 For God, who thee hath chosen and ordained 
 To such high state, such honor, can as easily 
 Ordain, to recompense the ill thou hast, 
 Some glorious guerdon of exceeding faith, 
 Visiting thy affliction and sore pain 
 With marvelous healing, found thy hopeful balm. 
 His mighty power we know, and him can like 
 Accredit on his people purpose high, 
 (For whom, if not on us, his favor set?) 
 The Holy One of Heaven, and our God. 
 
 Jacob. Thy words not yet avail to raise my trust; 
 For, oh, how different now my hopes portend 
 Than what they late possessed, when high in thoughts 
 Magnanimous I stood, secure of ill. 
 By proof beyond all doubts thus high inflamed! 
 Yet now, alas, despised, abject, and gazed, 
 Made to all men a mock and deepest scorn, 
 Forsaken, left of God, by him esteemed 
 Thence to such glorious mission high upraised ! 
 Who envies now my lot, or thus could live 
 Hopeless of future, that me now presents 
 Life undesirable, laborious days 
 Of toilsome thought, myself thus all contemned 
 Hopeless, unpitied, hated, and disprized? 
 Why could not death, acceptable death, have come 
 To snatch her hence, ere thus upon her fallen 
 Such burdenous ill unthought, the worst of grief 
 That human life with misery might bear? 
 
 Cho. Lament not thus; nor, all in doubts, afflict thee 
 
 [82] 
 
With impious thoughts of sin unpunished done. 
 
 For God hath not entirely left, nor all 
 
 Suitable vengeance passed, as paid entire 
 
 Those who have thus his precepts foully mocked, 
 
 But still shall visit with affliction grievous 
 
 And direful, as may best befit his care. 
 
 Such foul dishonor to his chosen offered. 
 
 Against God also, not against thee alone, 
 
 Have they presumed, who to their hurt shall find 
 
 Doubtless swift vengeance visited upon them 
 
 And wrath of Heaven, who their own ruin invoked. 
 
 For God, who thee upheld with heavenly strength 
 
 When once at Peniel all night thou strovest, 
 
 There wrestling with the angel, can as easy 
 
 Uphold and strengthen in thy trial hard. 
 
 If thou believe him better than thou hast. 
 
 And I persuade me more, because of old 
 
 Thou wert his chosen, w^ho with hand not slack 
 
 Can still sustain thee thence by heavenly grace. 
 
 Whence share with us what hopes we now obtain 
 
 With good success to reach complete revenge, 
 
 Visiting them with vengeance, as befits, 
 
 Who our despite have wreaked and shameful harm. 
 
 Thy sons, (for so in purpose late they stood 
 
 With us) by sharp desire to satisfy 
 
 For her, and ample vengeance wreak for loss 
 
 Of virgin peace thus wrecked, have parted late. 
 
 Bound thus obscure that none perhaps might mark 
 
 And frustrate thus their secret purpose set. 
 
 Satisfaction for such outrage vile to seek. 
 
 What if by this they have passed, and soon shall gain 
 
 Such ample retribution as may well 
 
 Cancel those hopes thus vile and dash their thoughts. 
 
 Who impiously presumed indignity 
 
 Upon God's chosen, to their harm presumed, 
 
 Their own destruction thence aijd ruin drawn? 
 
 Jacob. O folly and shame! That they should thus 
 presume, 
 My sons, usurping, set on rebellious spite, 
 Against my right, t'hence drawing their own harm, 
 Yet, worse, of me, and all, when, thus provoked, 
 
 [83] 
 
Our foes on us shall recompense exact 
 
 For oath thus violated and slack faith! 
 
 Why have I thus bemoaned as ill that lot 
 
 I had obtained, since now much worse appears 
 
 Danger which threatens, that the lesser evil 
 
 I feel not, by the greater thus infixed? 
 
 But let me hence, if warned in time perhaps 
 
 Those with whom late in league I joined, that thence 
 
 Haply they may escape the snare, and thus 
 
 On me stick no reproach for slackened faith. 
 
 What they had done deserved no such return 
 
 After close league in amity thus joined. 
 
 Nor me excuses that I now should warn 
 
 What danger, all unthought, on them impends. 
 
 For, where such warranty and oath conjoin. 
 
 True faith should like conjoin, nor thus permit 
 
 Duty to slack, or care, as here were done. 
 
 Cho. Yet stay ; for hither speeding to our place 
 I see who may report our state with news. 
 
 Mes. O sight, which late these eyes with dread beheld. 
 And still behold, so lively yet I see, 
 By fancy or imagination fixed 
 
 Still on my mind that sight, though loathing much ! 
 Yet not so, but that accident or chance 
 Hath led me hither, or the guess of instinct, 
 To ye, so much thus in the news concerned. 
 
 Jacob. Or good or bad thy tidings, speak them out. 
 
 Mes. Good to whom good ; which here not all may 
 boast. 
 
 Jacob. Yet still set forth thy news; which, good or 
 bad, 
 Come not too soon; for still the worst endured, 
 Until relation clear ends apprehension. 
 
 Mes. Shechem, and all who wrought thy daughter's 
 harm. 
 Are overthrown, in ruin whelmed and fallen. 
 
 [84] 
 
Jacob. What punishment upon him was exacted, 
 Adjudged thus guilty, worthy not to scape? 
 
 Mes. Just punishment and right, nor aught extenuate. 
 The dark and lecherous deed, which there he wrought. 
 Cost him his life. 
 
 Jacob. O heavy satisfaction 
 
 Upon his sin exacted to his harm! 
 One question else remains — say at whose hand. 
 
 Mes. Thy sons have recompensed her direful harm. 
 
 Jacob. But how done thus? put forth the full relation. 
 Tidings thus more particular and distinct. 
 
 Mes. Hither from Shalem come I, wherein dwelt 
 He who had wrought thy daughter's ruinous harm. 
 There as my task I sped, following a beast 
 Stolen from the flock, some little time I passed, 
 Ere I had quite dispatched ; when sudden rose 
 Rumor of tumult, that with noise aroused 
 Each byway and high street. Soon I beheld 
 Where through the streets approached some bridal train, 
 That wont with glad disorder pass along — 
 But passed not gladly here, such uproar wild 
 Threatening arose, as well might ruin all. 
 Not suiting nuptial time and marriage-feast. 
 There as I nearer drew, I found the bride 
 (And so, ere I arrived, from some I gained) 
 Not else than that sad virgin, thy wronged daughter. 
 She, with distressful plight, and fearful tears 
 That ceased not flowing, passed along the streets, 
 Matter of gaze and scorn, with foul abuse 
 Exclaimed upon each side, as well might draw 
 Resentment, if aught friendly to her stood. 
 And so it chanced ; for soon a voice was heard 
 Much moved, by passionate wrath as far distressed: 
 Why do ye thus presume beyond the bounds 
 Of hospitality, that ye so bemock 
 One thus unfortunate, whose distressful plight 
 Might pity better draw and courteous silence, 
 
 [85] 
 
As fits a woman solitary in grief, 
 
 Raising compassionate ruth for sad mischance? 
 
 Whereto with impudence was thus returned: 
 
 Who art thou that inquirest thus our right 
 
 To do as now? Know that thy thought concern 
 
 Hath here no place, for not thy bride we deem 
 
 The woman is, nor haply of thy tribe. 
 
 To mix with our concerns thou wert best forbear. 
 
 Nor draw upon thyself perchance what anger 
 
 Provoked thou seest ; better love thy life. 
 
 So spake they, as to height of fury raised. 
 
 Surveying him who thus had dared presume 
 
 To that bold deed, vouched with a speech thus bold. 
 
 Whereat thy sons, for so I then perceived 
 
 Simeon and Levi, waited not, but set 
 
 Upon them, with what weapons there by chance. 
 
 Or haply to this purpose with them found. 
 
 Whom when among, they with such fury smote 
 
 Upon them, that they might not well withstand 
 
 So sudden onset, but to flight they turned. 
 
 Struck from their boastful hope, bereft, and fallen. 
 
 After whom slain, these stayed not yet their wrath, 
 
 Swording it through the city, where by chance, 
 
 Within doors or without, in flower of youth 
 
 Or crowned with wintry age — none able aught 
 
 Of opposition — till, of all there found 
 
 In manhood, none alive remained, o'ercome 
 
 And quite destroyed by such avenging wrath. 
 
 Then, after that dire slaughter, which had slain 
 
 Their city's prime in manhood and the flower. 
 
 Youth, or old age, or child, in death not spared, 
 
 With all of common sort, and thereto joined 
 
 Him who had wrought so grievous harm, the proud 
 
 Insulter, cause of all their wrath provoked 
 
 By such indignity and dishonor foul. 
 
 They took forthwith their sister and escaped. 
 
 Wherein if to our foes be aught of joy, 
 
 Let them rejoice indeed and gratulate. 
 
 Cho. O Heaven-ordained revenge victorious ! 
 On those insulters proud in scorn 
 Fully avenged with grievous foil 
 
 [86] 
 
Amply repaid, their high-built pride 
 
 Tumbled with shock; 
 
 Which ruined their hopes and dashed their thoughts, 
 
 Who only meant our harm, yet reaped 
 
 Anger and insult dread 
 
 Upon them ensnared. 
 
 In the fatal fold self-tangled ! 
 
 When their hearts were uplifted, high in scorn, 
 Jocund with mockery, drunk with pride 
 And surfeit of laughter deep ingorged, 
 Sudden upon them struck 
 Dire madness, by them induced 
 Unthought, which only drew 
 Speedy destruction and death upon them come 
 Who thought our wrong. 
 Yet contrary proved 
 The snare of ruin upon them. 
 
 For these, though all disprized, 
 Contemned, and held diminished, slight, 
 From under embers roused their vigor's sudden blaze ; 
 And as a leopard came, which hunger drives 
 Upon the flocks in wattled cotes at eve 
 When shepherds sleep secure, but as a lion 
 Their fiery virtue fell. 
 Sudden as clap of thunder from clear sky! 
 So fell their foes ; but these, as Virtue's self. 
 Most active roused when seeming most depressed. 
 Revived their courage hid. 
 And on their enemies, who them despised,^ 
 Smote like a tempest, when the quarterd winds 
 Rush forth, and vex the woods. So fell their foes ; 
 But these, from great emprise. 
 Return with joy and glad elation high. 
 After the slaughter of their foes amazed, 
 Stricken from all defense, on whom o'erwhelmed 
 God hath fulfilled his errand of affliction. 
 
 But hold ; for now the storm draws on apace. 
 
 Jacob. The day hath promised fair, nor yet portends. 
 
 Cho. Another kind of tempest threatens now. 
 
 Jacob. Unjoint thy speech perplexed ; no riddle needs. 
 [87] 
 
Cho. The riddle is resolved ; thy sons draw nigh. 
 
 Jacob. Why have ye, sons, thus motioned to my hurt 
 And yours, by this ill deed that shall corrupt 
 My name among these heathen and profane? 
 Was there no right on you by me presumed, 
 That ye should venture thus beyond your due, 
 Done in this deed, usurping to yourselves. 
 And arrogating my due place supposed? 
 
 Simeon. We have done what we have done, motioning 
 to good. 
 Thereto set on by God, purposed to do, 
 His Instruments, what punishment ordained 
 Upon those evil, heathen, treacherous, vile. 
 That guilt of their own ruin thence had drawn. 
 And herein do we but our deed approve 
 That vengeance sore hath dealt on him, the proud 
 Insulter. For should he thus basely scape, 
 Who with our sister hath presumed to deal 
 As with a harlot ? Thus in this we erred not, 
 But better are approved. Who could endure 
 Such treacherous blot to family and God, 
 Indignity to honor and religion, 
 Joined with idolaters, the head of shame? 
 If thou, her father, couldst not feel such Insult, 
 And thence resent It with more strenuous anger. 
 We at the least could, and could like avenge it. 
 Thy slackness hath relaxed our bond of duty 
 Toward thee, and justified our vengeful deed. 
 As but a holy ill and pious wrong. 
 All of them then were slain — he, who had spoiled 
 Our sister's honor, to avenge our quarrel; 
 The other only to assure our safety 
 Was done, lest thence on us perhaps induced 
 Danger unthought, with ruin unsuspected, 
 Yet none the less pernicious to our lives 
 From these who had wrought our ruin thus and shame. 
 
 Jacob. What consequence from this rash act may draw 
 Condemns the deed. Why should I be contemned 
 As a league-breaker, worthy death adjudged. 
 Which these shall visit on me for my faith 
 [88] 
 
Unfaithful, unregarded, unobserved? 
 Had I no power herein, and ye no duty. 
 That ye with disobedience have usurped 
 My office known, a stench upon my name 
 Thus bringing with contempt, that Canaan's sons 
 Cast blame on me for disregarded oath, 
 Broken my plighted faith and duty sworn. 
 That I have infamy upon my name 
 Denounced, a breaker of just oath and faith? 
 And do ye thus with sober brow approve it. 
 Glossing it with religion's holy name — 
 A deed thus vile, unholy, irreligious. 
 Against the laws of God and laws of nations 
 So to disrupt a sacred peace thus joined? 
 Curst is the deed for your sakes! Ye in sorrow 
 Shall bear that weight all the days of your lives! 
 
 Levi. Father, we are not careful to observe 
 Thy reverence, where a higher duty claims 
 Upon us, that the mark of infamy, 
 Such foul dishonor stuck upon our front. 
 Be cleansed, and cleared our stain. For they themselves 
 Drew their own hurt, with base dishonor done 
 And rape of virgin, taking stain of crime 
 Unnatural, inhospitable performed, 
 From whence Indignity and sister's shame. 
 
 Cho. Fair In Its end, though oft with doubt, 
 Hath closed this day, wherein was seen 
 God's trial of his chosen found. 
 With Heavenly endurance upheld 
 Of wisdom high, that sore hath visited 
 Discomfit and fierce vengeance on his foes; 
 But on his people hath allotted thence 
 Favor, and recompense for insult high 
 Upon them presumed. 
 With release from sore affliction. 
 
 [89] 
 
jUW 8 1908 
 
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