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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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Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,

 Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!" I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more!  Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, 
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;
 For I myself have many tears to wash Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! Cry but 'Ah me!' pronounce but Love and dove; Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries? Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. 
Bid Gloster think of this, and he will weep.
  Why, let the strucken deer go weep, Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death, And make poor England weep in streams of blood!