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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Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night; One that was a woman, sir; but, rest her soul, she's dead. And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Here in Verona, ladies of esteem, I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay: And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? And fearfully did menace me with death With one that saw him die: who did report, Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. I have bewept a worthy husband's death, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight! The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. O, I die, Horatio; For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing And call the noblest to the audience. Shall I be plain?--I wish the bastards dead; Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. O my accursed womb, the bed of death! I would not wish them to a fairer death: His nurse! why she was dead ere thou wast born.