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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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My lord, he's going to his mother's closet:

 The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, Bade me rely on him as on my father, Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb! But in your daughter's womb I bury them: Of what degree soever, with your brother. 
  • Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
 False to his children and his wife's allies; I am thy father's spirit; Where is my mother?--why, she is within; 
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.--
 I have a daughter,--have whilst she is mine,-- A sister driven into desperate terms,-- Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. 'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,