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Now might I do it pat, now 'a is a-praying
A villain kills my father; and for that, I his sole son, do this same villain send to heaven.
Why this is hire and salary, not revenge.
And am I then revenged, to take him in the purging of his soul, when he is fit and season'd for his passage?
No. Up sword; and know thou a more horrid hent:
When he is drunk asleep, or in his rage, or in th'incestuous pleasure of his bed.
As hell, whereto it goes.
Then I trip him, that his heels may kick at heaven.
My mother stays. This physic but prolongs thy sickly days.
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