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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Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; Your mother. Dead art thou, dead!--alack, my child is dead; I am too childish-foolish for this world. Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, To win your daughter. Your brother's son shall never reign our king; There wanteth now our brother Gloster here, See thou deliver it to my lord and father. Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, Conceit upon her father. Hath sent a letter to his father's house. His son was but a ward two years ago. With pestilent speeches of his father's death; But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother Mother, good-night.--Indeed, this counsellor May fright the hopeful mother at the view; Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother! His father's death and our o'erhasty marriage. From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: I stay too long:--but here my father comes.