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.
.
I have no more sons of the royal blood For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood O bloody Richard!--miserable England! Who made thee, then, a bloody minister And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead, Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, I grant him bloody, Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war. Which smok'd with bloody execution, Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death: Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood With blood remov'd but little from her own? Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Alas, how shall this bloody deed be answer'd? To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, Had she affections and warm youthful blood,