Amid too idle words, nor asking how
She praised us both (which most?) for what we did.
Aga. Ye Gods who govern here! do human pangs
Reach the pure soul thus far below? do tears
Spring in these meadows?
Iphig. No, sweet father, no.
I could have answered that; why ask the Gods?
Aga. Iphigenia! O my child! the Earth
Has gendered crimes unheard of heretofore,
And nature may have changed in her last depths,