LAERTES: My lord, I’ll let you decide.
I only ask that you devise it so that I may be the agent of his death!
CLAUDIUS: Laertes, did you truly love your father?
Or are you putting on an act, like a painting of sorrow—a face with no heart?
LAERTES: Why are you asking me this?
CLAUDIUS: Not that I think you didn’t love your father, but I’ve seen it happen that, as the days go by, time dampens the flame of love.
Hamlet is coming back. What proof will you offer—in action, not just words—that you’re your father’s son?
LAERTES: I’ll cut his throat in church.
CLAUDIUS: Indeed, not even a holy church can offer refuge to that murderer, Hamlet! Revenge shall have no bounds!