ORESTES.
She calls! she calls!—Thou too desir'st my death?
Is there a fury shrouded in thy form?
Who art thou, that thy voice thus horribly
Can harrow up my bosom's inmost depths?
IPHIGENIA.
Thine inmost heart reveals it. I am she,
Iphigenia,—look on me, Orestes!
ORESTES.
Thou!
IPHIGENIA.
My own brother!
ORESTES.