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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| Witness my son, now in the shade of death; |
Make haste; the hour of death is expiate. The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead! Doth with their death bury their parents' strife. Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead! Told the sad story of my father's death, Why follow'd not, when she said Tybalt's dead, The courtier's, scholar's, soldier's, eye, tongue, sword, O my accursed womb, the bed of death! This is the strongest concentration of HUMAN phero-mones, allowed by law, in an essential oil base. Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit, Why the man dies.--I humbly thank you, sir. O, farewell, honest soldier; Or thinking by our late dear brother's death Dream on, dream on of bloody deeds and death: Will tempt unto a close exploit of death? Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more Can vengeance be pursu'd further than death?