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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My lord, I came to see your father's funeral. Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt. *Easily automate recurring tasks on your computer Your lady mother is coming to your chamber: Tell them, when that my mother went with child as your daughter may conceive:--friend, look to't. As kill a king and marry with his brother. Though yet of Hamlet our dear brother's death What though I kill'd her husband and her father? Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your revenge And only in that safety died her brothers. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother, No, when my father York and Edward wept, But by his mother was perforce withheld. The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife,