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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These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows, To undertake the death of all the world, No, no, he is dead, Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried, The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Give me my Romeo; and, when he shall die, And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, time to do't ;--Hell is murky!--Fie, my lord, fie! a soldier, No, no, he is dead, Than death can yield me here by my abode. The horrible conceit of death and night, Much more than death; do not say banishment. Would create soldiers, make our women fight, Than death can yield me here by my abode. But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death; That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;-- That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! To keep those many many bodies safe And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks, Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,