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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My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; To kill their gracious father? damned fact! Never came poison from so sweet a place. And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd. Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor
Shall sleep no more,--Macbeth shall sleep no more! I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none. - Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer,
An if a man did need a poison now, If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, That thou shalt do no murder: will you then Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin? Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife, My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,