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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I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; So you must take your husbands.--Begin, murderer; pox, leave I am justly kill'd with mine own treachery. In the poison'd entrails throw.-- To kill their gracious father? damned fact! My brother kill'd no man,--his fault was thought, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.-- Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; Doth make against me, of this direful murder; For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,-- Tybalt, here slain, whom Romeo's hand did slay; To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!