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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But he, poor man, by your first order died, All is but toys: renown and grace is dead; Close relatives. The least a death to nature. And fearfully did menace me with death To add the death of you. And humbly beg the death upon my knee, But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead? That fair for which love groan'd for, and would die, This is the truth, or let Benvolio die. And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death Too late he died that might have kept that title, That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here; O momentary grace of mortal men, O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death!