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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The imminent death of twenty thousand men Give me the daggers: the sleeping and the dead O, he hath kept an evil diet long, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! Of this dead butcher, and his fiend-like queen,-- At least we'll die with harness on our back. And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me For now they kill me with a living death. His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. | Doth the news hold of good King Edward's death? |
Thou know'st 'tis common,--all that lives must die, No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, The soldiers' music and the rites of war His venom tooth will rankle to the death: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, Which in his death were perfect. Strange images of death. As thick as hail And look on death itself! up, up, and see That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, And if I die no soul will pity me: