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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He has kill'd me, mother: Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister; That I am guiltless of your father's death, Her father and myself,--lawful espials,-- Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both, He is within, with two right reverend fathers, With blood of fathers, mothers, daughters, sons, Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeas'd And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom! Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace? But in your daughter's womb I bury them: Be executed in his father's sight. Will I withal endow a child of thine; Was never mother had so dear a loss! Shall I go win my daughter to thy will? Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless.