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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Methought their souls whose bodies Richard murder'd Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And by opposing end them?--To die,--to sleep,-- As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers, Sirrah, your father's dead; O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, If you will live, lament; if die, be brief, Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death, And threaten'd me with death, going in the vault, Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! 'Tis death to me to be at enmity; Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. A thing like death to chide away this shame, Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse Have of your audience been most free and bounteous; Whose sale is present death in Mantua, That makes us wretched by the death of thee, A thing like death to chide away this shame, Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.