Oyonale - Créations 3D et expériences graphiques
ShakeSpam
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Why I descend into this bed of death But that the dread of something after death,-- Upon his death? If he were dead, what would betide on me? For good Polonius' death; and we have done but greenly Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! Much more than death; do not say banishment. For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead; Dies not alone; but like a gulf doth draw Like death, when he shuts up the day of life; No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean, In the dead vast and middle of the night, Strange images of death. As thick as hail This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death, And sayest thou yet that exile is not death! To keep those many many bodies safe And the rank poison of the old will die. Sir, in this audience, A fault against the dead, a fault to nature, Was pitied of Macbeth:--marry, he was dead:-- For if the sun breed maggots in a dead dog, being a god-kissing Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!"