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EURIPIDES.
Iphigeneia (turning to Artemis' temple).
O Queen, how justly! And Laertes' son?
Orestes.
He hath won not home, but liveth, rumour tells.
Iphigeneia.
Now ruin seize him! Never win he home!535
Orestes.
No need to curse. His lot is misery all.
Iphigeneia.
Liveth the son of Nereid Thetis yet?
Orestes.
Lives not. In Aulis vain his bridal was.
Iphigeneia.
A treacherous bridal!—they which suffered know.
Orestes.
Who art thou—thou apt questioner touching Greece?540
Iphigeneia.
Thence am I, in my childhood lost to her.
Orestes.
Well mayst thou, lady, long for word of her.
Iphigeneia.
What of her war-chief, named the prosperous?
