Ham. Does it not, thinkst thee, stand me now vpon
He that hath kil’d my King and whor’d my Mother,
Popt in betweene th’election and my hopes,
Throwne out his Angle for my proper life,
And with such coozenage; is’t not perfect conscience,
To quit him with this arme? and is’t not to be damn’d,
To let this Canker of our nature come
In further euill?
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