IPHIGENIA.
From Argos! … Oh, how sweet to see thee here!
ORESTES.
Enjoy it, then. To me 'tis sorry cheer.
IPHIGENIA.
Thou knowest the name of Troy? Far doth it flit.
ORESTES.
Would God I had not; nay, nor dreamed of it.
IPHIGENIA.
Men fable it is fallen beneath the sword?
ORESTES.
Fallen it is. Thou hast heard no idle word.
IPHIGENIA.
Fallen! At last!—And Helen taken too?
ORESTES.
Aye; on an evil day for one I knew.
IPHIGENIA.
Where is she? I too have some anger stored …
ORESTES.
In Sparta! Once more happy with her lord!