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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?

 It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!" They bear the mandate; they must sweep my way It is the cry of women, my good lord. Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match. Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur My fate cries out, Harpier cries:--"tis time, 'tis time. I cry you mercy: What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?  Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans: Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is, Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death Wherefore was that cry? Look, whether he has not turn'd his colour, and has tears in's The pretty wretch left crying, and said 'Ay:' I cry thee mercy then; for I did think I cry you mercy: If he were dead, you'ld weep for him: if you would not, it Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: I cry you mercy: