Ion. 'Tis well with me; do but restrain thyself, and then both of us will be happy.
Xut. Give me thy hand to grasp, thy body to embrace.
Ion. Art thou in thy senses, sir, or hath some spiteful god reft thee of them?
Xut. I am in my senses, for I have found what I hold most dear, and am eager to show my love.
Ion. Cease! touch me not, nor tear these garlands of the god!
Xut. I will embrace thee, for I am not seizing what is not my own, but only finding my own that I love full well.
Ion. Hands off! or thou shalt feel an arrow pierce thy ribs.
Xut. Why dost thou shun me, now that thou findest in me thy nearest and dearest?
Ion. I am not fond of schooling boors[1] and crazy strangers.
Xut. Kill me, burn me, if thou wilt; for, if thou dost, thou wilt be thy father's murderer.
Ion. Thou my father, indeed! Oh! is not news like this enough to make me laugh?
Xut. Not so; my tale, as it proceeds, will prove to thee what I assert.
Ion. Pray, what hast thou to tell me?
Xut. That I am thy own father, and thou my very child.
Ion. Who says so?
Xut. Loxias, who gave thee nurture, though thou wert my son.
Ion. Thou art thy own witness.
Xut. Nay, I have learnt the answer of the god.
Ion. Thou art mistaken in the dark riddle thou hast heard.
Xut. It seems then I do not hear aright.
Ion. What said Phœbus?
Xut. That the man who met me
Ion. When and where?
- ↑ Nauck reads φρενῶν ἀμοίρους for the MSS. φρενοῦν ἀμούσους.
