His feeble heart, and, as he must have died,
Dies.--Let ill fortune float upon her tide
And weep no more for us. What way this land
Worships its god we know and understand.

IPHIGENIA.
Say first ... which is it men call Pylades?

ORESTES.
'Tis this man's name, if that will give thee ease.

IPHIGENIA.
From what walled town of Hellas cometh he?

ORESTES.
Enough!--How would the knowledge profit thee?

IPHIGENIA.
Are ye two brethren of one mother born?

ORESTES.
No, not in blood. In love we are brothers sworn.

IPHIGENIA.
Thou also hast a name: tell me thereof.

ORESTES.
Call me Unfortunate. 'Tis name enough.

IPHIGENIA.