ISMENE: What! wilt though slay thine own son's bridal hopes!
KREON: The glebes of other women may be ploughed.
[tr. Donaldson (1848)]

ISMENE: What, wilt thou slay thy own son's plighted bride?
CREON: Aye, let him raise him seed from other fields.
[tr. Storr (1859)]

ISMENE: But your own son’s bride!
CREON: There are places enough for him to push his plow.
[tr. Fitts/Fitzgerald (1939), c. l. 455]

ISMENE: But she is Haemon's bride -- and can you kill her?
CREON: Is she the only woman he can bed with?
[tr. Kitto (1962)]

ISMENE: But will you really kill the bride of your son?
CREON: There's other ground for him to plow, you know.
[tr. Woodruff (2001)]

ISMENE: Will you kill your son’s bride-to-be?
CREON: There is much more fertile land in the world for my son, Haemon.
[tr. Theodoridis (2004)]

ISMENE: But will you kill your own son's promised bride?
CREON: Oh, there are other furrows for his plough.
[tr. Wyckoff]

ISMENE: You would kill the bride of your own son?
CREON: There are other fields just as fertile.
[tr. Thomas]

ISMENE: But in that case you will kill your own son’s nuptial rites?
CREON: Yes, the fields of others are fit for the plow.
[tr. Tyrell/Bennett]