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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This murderous shaft that's shot Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire: Macbeth does murder sleep,"--the innocent sleep; A second time I kill my husband dead His canon 'gainst self-slaughter! O God! O God! Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? The hood goes up and down, the lights flash and the horn beeps as it races along. There's one did laugh in's sleep, and one cried, "Murder!" Like to a murdering piece, in many places Never came poison from so sweet a place. Please you. But I had rather kill two enemies. Tybalt, that murderer, which way ran he? For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,-- Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts. Tybalt's death Doth not she think me an old murderer, Despis'd, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!-- Never came poison from so sweet a place.