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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Daughter, well met. Of my child's love: I think she will be rul'd The weird sisters, hand in hand, Before sunrising, lest his son George fall O child! O child!--my soul, and not my child!-- So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; This letter he early bid me give his father; Valued Customer: Imagine the perfect business: | Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; |
Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both. Younger than she are happy mothers made. What is her mother? Antony Woodville, her brother there, Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; Wept like two children in their deaths' sad story. Laertes, was your father dear to you? At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: That stir the king against the duke my brother. And only in that safety died her brothers. Say, Voltimand, what from our brother Norway? The curse my noble father laid on thee, His son was but a ward two years ago. Would quake to look on. Soft! now to my mother.-- Are made already mothers: by my count