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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Here's the smell of the blood still: all the perfumes The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, | Would harrow up thy soul; freeze thy young blood; |
To ears of flesh and blood.--List, list, O, list!-- I have no more sons of the royal blood With thy keen sword impress, as make me bleed: For like the hectic in my blood he rages, The secret'st man of blood.--What is the night? For the blood-bolter'd Banquo smiles upon me, O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood,