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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'Tis more, 'tis more: his son is elder, sir; Your children were vexation to your youth; Dead art thou, dead!--alack, my child is dead; The parents live whose children thou hast butcher'd, Sirrah, your father's dead; The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife, To win your daughter. Nurse, where's my daughter? call her forth to me. Let his queen mother all alone entreat him Imagine the look on my face when my buddy the poolman told me he needed me to fill in for him and go clean some horny rich bitches pool. The loss you have is but a son being king, Laertes, was your father dear to you? I think it was to see my mother's wedding. Was that my father that went hence so fast? Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come? - Antony Woodville, her brother there,
Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,-- - My wife and children's ghosts will haunt me still.
I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee. A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; Where all the kindred of the Capulets lie. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together:-- The counterfeit presentment of two brothers.