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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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Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?

 False to his children and his wife's allies; A villain kills my father; and for that, 'A was a merry man,--took up the child: Mother, good-night.--Indeed, this counsellor Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. And only in that safety died her brothers. Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you eyes?  My father's death,-- A sister driven into desperate terms,-- Thou knowest my daughter's of a pretty age. That we have had no time to move our daughter: Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child! Off with his son George's head!  'One fair daughter, and no more, And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? That I am guiltless of your father's death, 
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mother,

 He has no children.--All my pretty ones? Are you at leisure, holy father, now; My father, in his habit as he liv'd! The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb; Mother, you have my father much offended.