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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I will be brief:--your noble son is mad: Ah, good father, Of my true mother. There's but one down: the son is fled. My father's death,-- - my father died:--they say he made a good end,--
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away! I must be married to my brother's daughter, As it behooves my daughter and your honour. Mother, you have my father much offended. His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, Bade me rely on him as on my father, As of a father: for let the world take note Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. Make war upon themselves; brother to brother,