IPHIGENIA.
And my hand, too, cleaner for all my life.

THOAS.
Well, the waves lap close by the temple floor.

IPHIGENIA.
We need a secret place. I must do more.

THOAS.
Some rite unseen? 'Tis well. Go where thou wilt.

IPHIGENIA.
The Image likewise must be purged of guilt.

THOAS.
The stain hath touched it of that mother's blood?

IPHIGENIA.
I durst not move it else, from where it stood.

THOAS.
How good thy godliness and forethought! Aye,
Small wonder all our people holds thee high.

IPHIGENIA.
Dost know then what I fain would have?

THOAS.
'Tis thine to speak and it shall be.