ORESTES.
That will I.—First, old tales Electra told.
Thou knowest how Pelops' princes warred of old?
IPHIGENIA.
I know: the Golden Lamb that wrought their doom.
ORESTES.
Thine own hand wove that story on the loom…
IPHIGENIA.
How sweet! Thou movest near old memories.
ORESTES.
With a great Sun back beaten in the skies.
IPHIGENIA.
Fine linen threads I used. The memories come.
ORESTES.
And mother gave thee shrift-water from home
For Aulis …
IPHIGENIA.
I remember. Not so fair
A day did drink that water!
ORESTES.
And thine hair
They brought us for thy dying gift, and gave
To mother.
IPHIGENIA.
Yes: for record on the grave
I sent it, where this head should never lie.