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.