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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And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet, Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel: Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, Who am I? Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast; See where she comes from shrift with merry look. Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste. But all so soon as the all-cheering sun Thy beauty hath made me effeminate That thou her maid art far more fair than she: If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, To entertain these fair well-spoken days,-- In God's name cheerly on, courageous friends, What doth her beauty serve but as a note And in their summer beauty kiss'd each other. Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, But cheer thy heart and be thou not dismay'd: That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, That to the use of actions fair and good Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.