CREON
Well spoken:  so right-minded sons should feel,
In all deferring to a father’s will. 
For ’tis the hope of parents they may rear
A brood of sons submissive, keen to avenge
Their father’s wrongs, and count his friends their own. 
But who begets unprofitable sons,
He verily breeds trouble for himself,
And for his foes much laughter.  Son, be warned
And let no woman fool away thy wits. 
Ill fares the husband mated with a shrew,
And her embraces very soon wax cold. 
For what can wound so surely to the quick
As a false friend?  So spue and cast her off,
Bid her go find a husband with the dead. 
For since I caught her openly rebelling,
Of all my subjects the one malcontent,
I will not prove a traitor to the State. 
She surely dies.  Go, let her, if she will,
Appeal to Zeus the God of Kindred, for
If thus I nurse rebellion in my house,
Shall not I foster mutiny without? 
For whoso rules his household worthily,
Will prove in civic matters no less wise. 
But he who overbears the laws, or thinks
To overrule his rulers, such as one
I never will allow.  Whome’er the State
Appoints must be obeyed in everything,
But small and great, just and unjust alike. 
I warrant such a one in either case
Would shine, as King or subject; such a man
Would in the storm of battle stand his ground,
A comrade leal and true; but Anarchy—­
What evils are not wrought by Anarchy! 
She ruins States, and overthrows the home,
She dissipates and routs the embattled host;
While discipline preserves the ordered ranks. 
Therefore we must maintain authority
And yield to title to a woman’s will. 
Better, if needs be, men should cast us out
Than hear it said, a woman proved his match.

CHORUS
To me, unless old age have dulled wits,
Thy words appear both reasonable and wise.

HAEMON
Father, the gods implant in mortal men
Reason, the choicest gift bestowed by heaven. 
’Tis not for me to say thou errest, nor
Would I arraign thy wisdom, if I could;
And yet wise thoughts may come to other men
And, as thy son, it falls to me to mark
The acts, the words, the comments of the crowd. 
The commons stand in terror of thy frown,
And dare not utter aught that might offend,
But I can overhear their muttered plaints,
Know how the people mourn this maiden doomed
For noblest deeds to die the worst of deaths. 
When her own brother slain in battle lay
Unsepulchered, she suffered not his corse
To lie for carrion birds and dogs to maul: 
Should not her name (they cry) be writ in gold? 
Such the low murmurings that reach my ear. 
O father, nothing is by me more prized
Than thy well-being, for what higher good
Can children covet than their sire’s fair fame,
As fathers too take pride in glorious sons? 
Therefore, my father, cling not to one mood,