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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What, is my daughter gone to Friar Lawrence? At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child; O child! O child!--my soul, and not my child!-- There's but one down: the son is fled. I would he knew that I had sav'd his brother! Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloster; The weird sisters, hand in hand, Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love; To press before thy father to a grave? Ah, aunt, you wept not for our father's death! Is smother'd in surmise; and nothing is Going to find a barefoot brother out, (And betimes I will) to the weird sisters: When Dighton thus told on:--"We smothered