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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash

 With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Being vex'd, a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears: We cannot without circumstance descry. The inches ALWAYS stay off, and they never go back to the size they were in the beginning." Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. My fate cries out, And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, Wherefore was that cry? For me to joy and weep their gain and loss: With barefac'd power sweep him from my sight,