I await the man that is coming from the pastures.
Jocasta. What is it that you hope to learn?
Oedipus. I will tell you. If his tale agrees with yours, then I am clear.
Jocasta. What tale of mine?
Oedipus. He told you that Laius met his death from robbers; if he keeps to that tale now and speaks of several slayers I am not the slayer. But if he says one lonely wayfarer, then beyond a doubt the scale dips to me.
Jocasta. Be certain of this much at least, his first tale was of robbers. He cannot revoke that tale—the city heard it and not I alone. Yet, if he should somewhat change his story, king, at least he cannot make the murder of Laius square with prophecy; for Loxius plainly said of Laius that he would die by the hand of my child. That poor innocent did not kill him, for it died before him. Therefore from this out I would not for all divination can do so much as look to my right hand or to my left hand, or fear at all.
Oedipus. You have judged well; and yet for all that, send and bring this peasant to me.
Jocasta. I will send without delay. I will do all that you would have of me—but let us come in to the house.
