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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Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; | Such hideous cries that, with the very noise, |
Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, How can we aid you with our kindred tears?
Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Your eyes drop millstones when fools' eyes fall tears: Such hideous cries that, with the very noise, Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. Weep our sad bosoms empty. If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe, Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy; And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!"