Oyonale - 3D art and graphic experiments
ShakeSpam
Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.
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Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe? For blood of ours shed blood of Montague.-- The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. Their hands and faces were all badg'd with blood; Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, - Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;--
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day, When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy two Of carnal, bloody and unnatural acts; With blood of thine already. O prince!--O husband!--O, the blood is spill'd - Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;--
By this one bloody trial of sharp war. Had she affections and warm youthful blood, And question this most bloody piece of work To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!-- Repast them with my blood. Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood, The table round.--There's blood upon thy face. With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleeding sword Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood,