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Krindlesyke by Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
page 163 of 186 (87%)

BELL:
Murder? Nay: it takes a man
To murder.

JUDITH:
Ay ... But when you spoke of hanging,
He turned like death: and when he threatened you,
I saw blue-murder in his eyes.

BELL:
At most,
’Twould be manslaughter with the likes of him.
I’ve some respect for murderers: they, at least,
Take things into their own hands, and don’t wait
On lucky chances, like the rest of us--
Murderers and suicides ...

JUDITH:
But Jim?

BELL:
I’d back
Cain against Abel, ay, and hairy Esau
Against that smooth sneak Jacob. Jim? He’s likely
Done in some doxy in a drunken sleep:
’Twould be about his measure.

JUDITH:
Jim--O Jim!
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