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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Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death And make poor England weep in streams of blood! That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries. Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!" O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!" Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, All this is comfort; wherefore weep I, then? Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries. And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries, Like Niobe, all tears;--why she, even she,-- Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. She for an Edward weeps, and so do I: They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;