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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This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death, This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death, All this is comfort; wherefore weep I, then? Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. My fate cries out, Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match. Wherefore was that cry? Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Look no further, we have what you are looking for today. That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe, She for an Edward weeps, and so do I: They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood.