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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Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs, and weeps: Unbelievable, I'm your neighbor Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth, | Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. |
I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. And wet his grave with my repentant tears,-- Such hideous cries that, with the very noise, This quarry cries on havoc.--O proud death, Harpier cries:--"tis time, 'tis time. Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent, Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur
And therefore I forbid my tears: but yet