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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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Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,

 Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, She for an Edward weeps, and so do I:  Throng to the bar, crying all Guilty! guilty! With barefac'd power sweep him from my sight, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. The liquid drops of tears that you have shed I cry you mercy: My fate cries out, Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot And damn'd be him that first cries, "Hold, enough!" That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,-- That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur Edward and York. Then haply will she weep: To cry, "Hold, hold!" Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse: Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art; Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote