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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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The spring, the head, the fountain of your blood

 Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.  With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword With an untitled tyrant bloody-scepter'd, When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands The thin and wholesome blood; so did it mine; O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, There's daggers in men's smiles: the near in blood, Ay, and much better blood than his or thine. Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? Check out our site for all the info 
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.
 That would reduce these bloody days again,