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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- With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;
Doth make against me, of this direful murder; There art thou happy: Tybalt would kill thee, Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! But look'd not on the poison of their hearts: Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news! Then say they were not slain: For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd O, this is the poison of deep grief; it springs [Aside.] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. Murder thy breath in middle of a word, Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- But wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin? Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:-- For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak For ruin's wasteful entrance: there, the murderers, [Aside.] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late.