Creon. You shall not with impunity impugn
My wisdom, puny wit.
Hæmon. If thou wert not
My sire, I would have said thou hast no wit.
Creon. Thou woman’s puppet-slave, cajole not me!
Hæmon. Dost wish to speak and hear naught in reply?
Creon. Do you presume?—Now, by Olympus yonder,
You shall not taunt and chide and blame me thus
And then escape all punishment.—Bring forth
That pest, to die at once before the eyes
Of her bet betrothed in person, by his side!
Hæmon. Not by my side shall she be put to death—
Believe it not—nor shall you ever see
Me in your presence here again.—So rave
And fret and fume alone, or find some friends
To stay with who may care to stay with you.
Ch. Leader. The man is gone, my lord, in fury’s haste;
And hearts so young, when stung, resentment feel.
Creon. Let him go work his will, conceiving thoughts
Too great for man, if that be his desire,
But these two women he shall never save.
Ch. Leader. The other also? You would slay them both?
Creon. No, not the maid who kept her hands off—Right!
Ch. Leader. And what shall be the manner of her death?
Creon. I ’ll take her where no human foot hath trod,
And mew her up alive; there in a vault
Of stone I ’ll give her food enough to keep
The taint from all the town. And there, perchance,
Entreating Hades—whom alone she worships—
Release from death she may obtain; or else
Will learn this truth, though late and to her cost:
To honor those below is labor lost.
