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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His secret murders sticking on his hands; The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; He has kill'd me, mother: Pale Hecate's offerings; and wither'd murder, That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd, To murder me and my good Lord of Gloster! That murder'd my love's cousin,--with which grief, Or in my cell there would she kill herself. To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;-- The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain.-- So you must take your husbands.--Begin, murderer; pox, leave If they do see thee, they will murder thee. Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news!