Ion If ye have offered a sacrificial cake before the shrine and have aught ye wish to ask Phoebus, approach the altar; but enter not the inmost sanctuary, save ye have sacrificed sheep.
(Thirteenth) Chorus I understand; but we have no mind to trespass against the god’s law; the pictures here without will amuse us.
Ion Feast your eyes on all ye may.
(Fourteenth) Chorus My mistress gave me leave to see these vaulted chambers.
Ion Whose handmaids do ye avow yourselves?
(Fifteenth) Chorus The temple, where Pallas dwells, is the nursing-home of my lords. But lo! here is she of whom thou askest.
Ion Lady, whosoe’er thou art, I see thou art of noble birth, and thy bearing proves thy gentle breeding. For from his bearing one may mostly judge whether a man is nobly born. Yet am I much amazed to see thee close thine eyes in grief and with tears bedew thy noble face, when thou standest face to face with the holy oracle of Loxias. Why, lady, art thou thus disquieted? Here, where all others show their joy at sight of Phoebus’ sanctuary, thine eye is wet with tears.
Creusa Most courteously, sir stranger, dost thou express surprise at these my tears; the sight of this temple of Apollo recalled to me a memory of long ago, and somehow my thoughts went wandering home, though I am here myself. Ah, hapless race of women! ah, ye reckless gods! What shall I say? to what standard shall we refer justice if through the injustice of our lords and masters we are brought to ruin?
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