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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If this link does not work, try typing the address directly into your browser. Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, Yes,--that the king is dead. Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining. Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death, Would create soldiers, make our women fight, Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. Died every day she lived. Fare-thee-well! - Who, all as hot, turns deadly point to point,
And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband: Had you such leisure in the time of death Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb! To strike him dead I hold it not a sin.