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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Murder thy breath in middle of a word, This murderous shaft that's shot To do this piece of ruthless butchery, That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damned
Millions do business there everyday - so order with Confidence! That murder'd me: I would forget it fain; From the murderer's gibbet throw Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd, Your skill shall, like a star in the darkest night, Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- [Aside.] It is the poison'd cup; it is too late. Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? That thou shalt do no murder: will you then Like to a murdering piece, in many places