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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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It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash

 Ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears So dear I lov'd the man that I must weep. Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps: All this is comfort; wherefore weep I, then? All this is comfort; wherefore weep I, then? That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur 
Edward and York. Then haply will she weep:

 To stop the inundation of her tears;