IPHIGENIA.
My brother? Thou? ... Peace! Mock at me no more.
Argos is bright with him and Nauplia's shore.

ORESTES.
Unhappy one! Thou hast no brother there.

IPHIGENIA.
Orestes ... thou? Whom Clytemnestra bare?

ORESTES.
To Atreus' firstborn son, thy sire and mine.

IPHIGENIA.
Thou sayst it: Oh, give me some proof, some sign!

ORESTES.
What sign thou wilt. Ask anything from home.

IPHIGENIA.
Nay, thou speak: 'tis from thee the sign should come.

ORESTES.
That will I.--First, old tales Electra told.
Thou knowest how Pelops' princes warred of old?

IPHIGENIA.
I know: the Golden Lamb that wrought their doom.