Now might I do it pat — while he is chatting;
And now I’ll do it. And so he messes up his pants;
And so I am revenged. That would be just:
I, his virtuous wife, do this cheating villain send
To the laundry.
O, this is silliness, not revenge.
He violated his vows grossly, deliberately;
With deceit on his lips, flushed all May;
And he thought I wouldn’t find him out?
But he bought me jewelry, so it seems
He knows he messed up. Am I then revenged,
To embarrass him at this cookout,
When all our friends will think me mad?
No!
Up, platter, and wait for a crueler time:
When he is drunk asleep, or lost in sports,
Or in the adulterous pleasure of her bed;
Gambling, cussing, or about some act
He shouldn’t be doing;
Then trip him, that his ass may land in salad,
And wreck his mood, as dark and black
As our marriage. My mother-in-law arrives:
This dilly-dallying but prolongs my plans.
(Mrs. Hamlet)
