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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Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward, But smother'd it within my panting bulk, Come,sisters, cheer we up his sprites, Farewell, dear father. That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: O, in this love, you love your child so ill 'One fair daughter, and no more, More than my brother. "Ay," quoth my uncle Gloster Now, mother, what's the matter? Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. My father,--methinks I see my father. Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul: My brother kill'd no man,--his fault was thought, False to his children and his wife's allies; How can we aid you with our kindred tears? I will be brief:--your noble son is mad: