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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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Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,

 Which but their children's end naught could remove, thou do for a father? Whereof the king my brother was possess'd. Why should I, mother? Poor birds they are not set for. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth. Have you your father's leave? What says Polonius?  So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers; With reverend fathers and well learned bishops. And be a happy mother by the deed. Can from his mother win the Duke of York, Be executed in his father's sight. Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Good madam, be not angry with the child. Which but their children's end naught could remove,