Ion Naught know I but this, that I am called the slave of Loxias.
Creusa Then do I in my turn pity thee, sir stranger.
Ion Because I know not her that bare me, or him that begat me.
Creusa Is thy home here in the temple, or hast thou a house to dwell in?
Ion The god’s whole temple is my house, wherever sleep o’ertakes me.
Creusa Was it as a child or young man that thou earnest to the temple?
Ion Those who seem to know the truth, say I was but a babe.
Creusa What Delphian maid, then, weaned thee?
Ion I never knew a mother’s breast. But she who brought me up—
Creusa Who was she, unhappy youth? I see thy sufferings in my own.
Ion The priestess of Phoebus; I look on her as my mother.
Creusa Until thou earnest unto man’s estate, what nurture hadst thou?
Ion The altar fed me, and the bounty of each casual guest.
Creusa Woe is thy mother, then, whoe’er she was!
Ion Maybe my birth was some poor woman’s wrong.
Creusa Hast thou any store, for thy dress is costly enough?
Ion The god I serve gives me these robes to wear.
Creusa Wert thou never eager to inquire into thy birth?
Ion Ah! yes, lady! but I have no clue at all to guide me.
Creusa Alas! I know another woman who hath suffered as thy mother did.
Ion Who is she? If she would but help me in the task, how happy should I be!
Creusa ’Tis she on whose account I have preceded my husband hither.
Ion What are thy wishes? be sure I will serve thee, lady.
Creusa I would fain obtain a secret answer from Apollo’s oracle.
Ion Name it, then; the rest will I undertake for thee.
Creusa Hear, then, this story. Yet am I ashamed.
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