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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And there the little souls of Edward's children This is my daughter's jointure, for no more The parents live whose children thou hast butcher'd, How that the guilty kindred of the queen A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, Lends the tongue vows: these blazes, daughter, There wanteth now our brother Gloster here, I must be married to my brother's daughter, Was not incensed by his subtle mother Not to his father's; I spoke with his man. - And I'll salute your grace of York as mother
Murder her brothers, and then marry her! More than his father's death, that thus hath put him Which I have told thee, of my father's death: But yet to me they are strong. The queen his mother My brother kill'd no man,--his fault was thought, Father'd he is, and yet he's fatherless. Your children's children quit it in your age. Her mother is the lady of the house. My father Capulet will have it so; Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood What though I kill'd her husband and her father?