Iphigenia.
'Tis I. But speak not, lest thou break my thread.—
"Take me to Argos, brother, ere I die,
Back from the Friendless Peoples and the high
Altar of Her whose bloody rites I wreak."
Orestes. (aside.)
Where am I Pylades? How shall I speak?
Iphigenia.
"Else one in grief forsaken shall, like shame
Haunt thee."
Pylades. (aside.)
Orestes!
Iphigenia. (overhearing him.)
Yes: that is the name.
Ye gods above!