That villain-family before me now,
That I might vent my indignation on them,
While yet it boils within me.—There is nothing
I’d not endure to be reveng’d on them.
First I’d tread out the stinking snuff his father,
Who gave the monster being.—And then, Syrus,
Who urg’d him to it,—how I’d tear him!—First
I’d seize him round the waist, and lift him high,
Then dash his head against the ground, and strew
The pavement with his brains.—For Æschinus,