Jocasta
Ah mayst thou ne’er discover who thou art!
Oedipus
Go, fetch me here the herd, and leave yon woman
To glory in her pride of ancestry.
Jocasta
O woe is thee, poor wretch! With that last word
I leave thee, henceforth silent evermore.
Exit Jocasta .
Chorus
Why, Oedipus, why stung with passionate grief
Hath the queen thus departed? Much I fear
From this dead calm will burst a storm of woes.