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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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Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote

 That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend and foe, And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, To think it should leave crying, and say 'Ay:' Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. 
Weeping and wailing over Tybalt's corse:
 They cry 'Choose we! Laertes shall be king!' 
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven times salt,

 My fate cries out, Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen, So dear I lov'd the man that I must weep. How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Woul't weep? woul't fight? woul't fast? woul't tear thyself? Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' 
The tears have got small victory by that;
 Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; I would these dewy tears were from the ground. Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot Cry "God save Richard, England's royal king!"