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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Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, Is there a murderer here? No;--yes, I am: Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks, Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, To bear a poison, I would temper it, The potent poison quite o'er-crows my spirit: Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, Come, cordial and not poison, go with me Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature Who should against his murderer shut the door, In Margaret's battle at Saint Albans slain? As kill a king and marry with his brother. Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more,--Macbeth shall sleep no more!
Play something like the murder of my father Alack the day!--he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead! Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him!