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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My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh: He has no children.--All my pretty ones? And hath been from his youth: pray you, keep seat; Fell slaughter on their souls: heaven rest them now! In him that did object the same to thee: More relative than this.--the play's the thing Thus set it down:--he shall with speed to England Give me the cup; let go; by heaven, I'll have't.-- Sport and repose lock from me day and night! Truly, the hearts of men are fun of fear: My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; His cloister'd flight, ere to black Hecate's summons, You know your own degrees: sit down. At first
So fearful were they of infection. And to be baited with the rabble's curse. What is't but to be nothing else but mad?
And at our more consider'd time we'll read, And now falls on her bed; and then starts up, To him from whom you brought them. Seems, madam! Nay, it is; I know not seems. I must perforce: farewell.