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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,

 How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Edward and York. Then haply will she weep: Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!" How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,-- 
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art;
 The liquid drops of tears that you have shed The cry is still, "They come:" our castle's strength