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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Till the foul crimes done in my days of nature He that hath kill'd my king, and whor'd my mother; Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters; And in this brainish apprehension, kills A murderous villain, and so still thou art. Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, As kill a king! Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:-- butcher of a silk button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of An if a man did need a poison now, Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain; Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain;--