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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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It is the cry of women, my good lord.

 The cry is still, "They come:" our castle's strength They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; I heard a voice cry, "Sleep no more! Weep our sad bosoms empty. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? 
Cry to be heard, as 'twere from heaven to earth,
 And make poor England weep in streams of blood! I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. Who,--raging with thy tears and they with them,-- May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Weep our sad bosoms empty. Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, Address: