So scorn me, kick me, vent your siege on me

For all I’ve done, and give me back your pain

With Abel dead, and I a weary Cain—

I would be sentenced by your sympathy.

Oh! Void me thence, with all your subtlety;

Ere all you dogs do snap at me again,

I’ll leave, I’ll run, I’ll head into the plain.

Yet that be not the last you see of me.

I will return! and with my strengths redoubled

I’ll execute with pride my sentencers.

So that I’ll do, and no more am I troubled.

Your laws will fall to my swift saboteurs.

When all is done, and all your bloods are spilt

Then on your graves my city will be built.


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