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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And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? Next, your son gone; and he most violent author There's but one down: the son is fled. Your mother. Antony Woodville, her brother there, Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; How doth my lady? Is my father well? Yet thou didst kill my children. He has kill'd me, mother:
I thought my mother and my brother York | Are to your throne and state, children and servants; |
What though I kill'd her husband and her father? But even his mother shall uncharge the practice And there the little souls of Edward's children Better it were they all came by his father, Came I to take her from her kindred's vault; It is simply about time. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.