Aga. Oh! Gods of Hell!
Iphig. She hath not past the river.
We may walk
With our hands linked, nor feel our house's shame.
Aga. Never may'st thou, Iphigenia! feel it!
Aulis had no sharp sword, thou would'st exclaim,
Greece no avenger—I, her chief so late,
Through Erebus, through Elysium, writhe beneath it.
Iphig. Come, I have better diadems than those
Of Argos and Mycenai—come away,