Orestes.
Dead. And hath wrecked another's life as well.
Iphigenia.
Dead? By what dreadful fortune? Woe is me!
Orestes.
Why sighest thou? Had he any link with thee?
Iphigenia.
I did but think of his old joy and pride.
Orestes.
His own wife foully stabbed him, and he died.