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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'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, | Will tempt unto a close exploit of death? |
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, And humbly beg the death upon my knee, What sights of ugly death within my eyes! The woman will be out.--Adieu, my lord: Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd. I that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, He should the bearers put to sudden death, The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy friend, It was so painful that the doctor had to give her morphine. Became him like the leaving it; he died And his commission to employ those soldiers, And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes? Devoutly to be wish'd. To die,--to sleep;-- Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,