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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Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge Their course of love, the tidings of her death: Unless things mortal move them not at all,-- The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead Yes,--that the king is dead. The horrible conceit of death and night, I must be gone and live, or stay and die. Well, may you see things well done there,--adieu!-- O me! this sight of death is as a bell In deadly hate the one against the other: More miserable by the death of him Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death! My voice is in my sword: thou bloodier villain And the place death, considering who thou art, And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;-- O wretched state! O bosom black as death!