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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Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. That fair for which love groan'd for, and would die, O, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? Thy beauty hath made me effeminate Where is the beauteous majesty of Denmark? Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, The reason for the cash is not because this is illegal or somehow wrong. You are merry, my lord. This general applause and cheerful shout
Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard: By their own beauties: or, if love be blind, It is supposed, the fair creature died,-- of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! Cuts beauty off from all posterity. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave me here awhile; In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply: Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air, A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.-- His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning; Some say the lark makes sweet division; | Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most sharp |