Creon
Thou art as sullen in thy yielding mood
As in thine anger thou wast truculent.
Such tempers justly plague themselves the most.
Oedipus
Leave me in peace and get thee gone.
Creon
I go,
By thee misjudged, but justified by these.
Exeunt Creon .
Chorus
Lady, lead indoors thy consort; wherefore longer here delay?
Jocasta
Tell me first how rose the fray.
Chorus
Rumours bred unjust suspicions and injustice rankles sore.
Jocasta
Were both at fault then?
Chorus
Both.
Jocasta
What was the tale?
Chorus
Ask me no more. The land is sore distressed;
’Twere better sleeping ills to leave at rest.