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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| Why the man dies.--I humbly thank you, sir. |
The other Edward dead to quit my Edward; That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;-- And his commission to employ those soldiers, His nurse! why she was dead ere thou wast born. And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,-- She should have died hereafter; Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him, I will not be afraid of death and bane, Under the moon, can save the thing from death Here in Verona, ladies of esteem,
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.-- O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones, Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward; Why I descend into this bed of death