Since they serve without pay or a hope of reward,
I am bound by no bargain to show them regard:
I think I’ll just take them outside of the town,
Where the drainage, the filth and the offal are thrown,
And toss the whole pack of them into the ditch,
Then cover them over with sulphur and pitch;
Set fire to the mixture and leave them to cook,
To writhe in the flames, or to strangle with smoke;
And then I will drive them to earth back again,
To shiver in ice, howl in wind, hail and rain.