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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For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing That Anne, my queen, is sick and like to die: Alack the day!--he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! And so did I; well, we were born to die. The death I gave him. So again, good-night.-- O my accursed womb, the bed of death! Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, Are counsellors to fear. What soldiers, whey-face? Hath death lain with thy bride:--there she lies,