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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A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse; Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock 'tis day, As it is won with blood, lost be it so! Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu! Nearer in bloody thoughts, an not in blood, With blood remov'd but little from her own? Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare, And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed. It will have blood; they say, blood will have blood: Blood hath been shed ere now, i' the olden time, As it is won with blood, lost be it so! To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret Castle; As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: Will all great Neptune's ocean wash this blood Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff; The hey-day in the blood is tame, it's humble, The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard: The nearer bloody. Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence! On pain of torture, from those bloody hands