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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Or in my cell there would she kill herself. Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Never came poison from so sweet a place. My thought, whose murder yet is but fantastical, For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,-- To bear a poison, I would temper it, No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt I had a Henry, till a Richard kill'd him: Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! Believe us, some have tried to be greedy and then nothing happened. Never to rise again: thy mother's poison'd: For, hark you, Tybalt being slain so late, | It is a poison temper'd by himself.-- |
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as May;