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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Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: How can we aid you with our kindred tears? They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; I do beweep to many simple gulls; Our tears are not yet brew'd. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary The cry is still, "They come:" our castle's strength
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