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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Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires; To think it should leave crying, and say 'Ay:' O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps: That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. Which you weep for. With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, It is the cry of women, my good lord. The tears have got small victory by that; With open outcry, toward our monument. Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,-- Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say for you. Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. I would these dewy tears were from the ground. I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: Shows itself pure: he weeps for what is done. It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash