Swift comfort to his son, whom we all love.
Asan. I thank thee, Archon, for thy courtesy;
And may thy wish come true.
Gycia. And meantime, since my husband's heart is sore
For his sire's lonelihood, our purpose is
That he should sail to-morrow and go hence
To Bosphorus, where I, the festival
Being done, will join him later, and devote
A daughter's loving care and tender hand