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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Accurs'd, unhappy, wretched, hateful day! My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, See what a scourge is laid upon your hate, That they which brought me in my master's hate, Can lesser hide his love or hate than he; | O, no! alas, I rather hate myself |
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred: I hate not you for her proud arrogance. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, O, no! alas, I rather hate myself With hate in those where I expect most love! Proud can I never be of what I hate; Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine! That they which brought me in my master's hate, What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee, And hate the idle pleasures of these days.