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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Who knows not he is dead! Who knows he is? It is supposed, the fair creature died,-- Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death! Death lies on her like an untimely frost Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death: But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger And steal immortal blessing from her lips; Then you conclude, my grandam, he is dead. How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak! That cop'st with death himself to scape from it; Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment, I hear some noise within: dear love, adieu!-- The readiest way to make the wench amends I fear no uncles dead. To make me die with a restorative. And sayest thou yet that exile is not death! Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die,-- Unless things mortal move them not at all,--