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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O, in this love, you love your child so ill And by that loss your daughter is made queen. Thy mother's name is ominous to children. And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud: Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
Lost by his father, with all bonds of law, With reverend fathers and well learned bishops. Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. Advancement of your children, gentle lady. And for my sister, and her princely sons, - Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause
A bloody deed!--almost as bad, good mother, She speaks much of her father; says she hears My father's death,-- Let not thy mother lose her prayers, Hamlet: This is my daughter's jointure, for no more Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood Preys on the issue of his mother's body, Ravish our daughters?--Hark! I hear their drum. Hyperion to a satyr; so loving to my mother, As kill a king and marry with his brother. My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. The loss you have is but a son being king,