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Translated by E. Coleridge.
80 pages - You are on Page 71 Iphigenia: Mother, why so silent, thine eyes wet with tears? Clytaemnestra: I have reason, woe is me! to be sad at heart. Iphigenia: Forbear; make me not a coward; here in one thing obey me. Clytaemnestra: Say what it is, my child, for at my hands thou shalt ne'er suffer injury. Iphigenia: Cut not off the tresses of thy hair for me, nor clothe thyself in sable garb. Clytaemnestra: Why, my child, What is it thou hast said? Shall I, when I lose thee- Iphigenia: "Lose" me, thou dost not; I am saved and thou renowned, as far as I can make thee. Clytaemnestra: How so? Must I not mourn thy death? Previous Page / First / Next Page of Iphigenia At Aulis
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