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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Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk. choose but weep, to think they would lay him i' the cold ground. Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; Such hideous cries that, with the very noise, And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!" Harpier cries:--"tis time, 'tis time. Cries cuckold to my father; brands the harlot That I have? He would drown the stage with tears Thou wrong'st it more than tears with that report. Throng to the bar, crying all Guilty! guilty! Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse, Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. Why do you weep so oft, and beat your breast, Swits and spurs, swits and spurs; or I'll cry a match.