for if ye give me good news, ye will cause joy to a mistress who will not prove faithless to her word. Chorus O fortune! Old Servant This prelude to your speech is unlucky. Chorus Woe is me! Old Servant Can it be that the oracles delivered to my master wound me at all? Chorus Enough! why have aught to do with that which brings down death? Creusa What means this piteous strain? wherefore this alarm? Chorus Are we to speak or keep silence? What shall we do? Creusa Speak; for thou hast somewhat to tell that touches me. Chorus Then speak I will, though twice to die were mine. O mistress mine! never shalt thou hold a babe within thy arms or clasp him to thy breast. Creusa Ah me! would I were dead! Old Servant My daughter! Creusa O woe is me for my calamity! Mine is a heritage of suffering and woe that poisons life, good friends. Old Servant Ah, my child, ’tis death to us! Creusa Ah me! ah me! grief drives its weapon through this heart of mine. Old Servant Stay thy lamentations. Creusa Nay, but sorrow lodges here. Old Servant Till we learn— Creusa Ah, what further news is there for me? Old Servant Whether our master is in the same plight and shares thy misfortune, or thou art alone in thy misery. Chorus On him, old sir, Loxias hath bestowed a son, and he is enjoying his good fortune apart from her.