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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Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match. And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd; To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries? Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but Love and dove; What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay:' Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, I cry you mercy: Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; Throng to the bar, crying all Guilty! guilty! Wrinkle Reduction 61% improvement. And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: It is the cry of women, my good lord. And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?