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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Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice: Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead, Dies in his own too much: that we would do, Dead for a ducat, dead! When thou shalt tell the process of their death. With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, Death lies on her like an untimely frost Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead! which have walked in their sleep who have died holily in These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; Inter their bodies as becomes their births: And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!-- He is dead and gone; And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead, - And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband:
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love, I would not wish them to a fairer death: O love! O life!--not life, but love in death!