CREON.
O heart corrupt, a woman’s minion thou!
HAEMON.
Slave to dishonor thou wilt never find me.
CREON.
Thy speech at least was all a plea for her.
HAEMON.
And thee and me, and for the gods below.
CREON.
Living the maid shall never be thy bride.
HAEMON.
So she shall die, but one will die with her.
CREON.
Hast come to such a pass as threaten me?
HAEMON.
What threat is this, vain counsels to reprove?
CREON.
Vain fool to instruct thy betters; thou shall rue it.
HAEMON.
Wert not my father, I had said thou err’st.