Cre. Aged retainer of my father Erechtheus while yet he lived and saw the light of day, mount to the god's prophetic shrine that thou mayst share my gladness, if haply Loxias, great king, vouchsafe an answer touching my hopes of offspring; for sweet it is to share with friends prosperity, and sweet likewise to see a friendly face if any ill betide,—which God forbid! As thou of yore didst tend my sire, so now, thy mistress though I am, I take his place in tending thee.
Old Ser. Daughter, thy manners bear good witness still to thy noble lineage; thou hast never brought shame upon those ancestors of thine,[1] the children of the soil. A hand, I prithee, to the shrine! a hand to lean upon! 'Tis a steep path thither, truly; but lend thy aid to guide my steps and make me young again.
Cre. Come follow then, and look where thou art treading.
Old Ser. Behold! though my steps loiter, my thoughts take wings.
Cre. Lean on thy staff as thou climbest this winding path.
Old Ser. Even this staff is a blind guide when I myself can scarcely see.
Cre. True, but do not yield through fatigue.
Old Ser. Never willingly, but I am not master of that which is mine no more.[2]
Cre. Maidens mine, my trusty servants at the loom and web, declare to me how my lord hath fared as touching the question of offspring which brought us hither: for if ye give me good news, ye will cause joy to a mistress who will not prove faithless to her word.
Cho. O fortune!
Old Ser. This prelude to your speech is unlucky.
Cho. Woe is me!
Old Ser. Can it be that the oracles delivered to my master wound me at all?
