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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I cry you mercy: Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. My fate cries out, Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' We simply cannot keep up Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death Will want true colour; tears perchance for blood. Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt, My fate cries out, What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears? Who,--raging with thy tears and they with them,-- Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. To stop the inundation of her tears; I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,-- For I myself have many tears to wash