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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It is the cry of women, my good lord. And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, To overgo thy woes and drown thy cries? Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Throng to the bar, crying all Guilty! guilty! How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote | Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. |
I would these dewy tears were from the ground. O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say for you. Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,-- These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I; Edward and York. Then haply will she weep: They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses, Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. I cry you mercy: Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.