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Click on the verses to see them in context. Shakespeare's plays are available from the Gutenberg Projet.

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Is there a murderer here? No;--yes, I am:

 That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love! 
Could draw to part them was stout Tybalt slain;
 There lies the man, slain by young Romeo, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd that crown, Those that Macbeth hath slain. 
Whom, you may say, if't please you, Fleance kill'd,

 All real property owned, all STATE AND FEDERAL civil law suits in the past 7 years.!! To draw apart the body he hath kill'd: A second time I kill my husband dead I had a Henry, till a Richard kill'd him: 
Direness, familiar to my slaught'rous thoughts,
 You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; Play something like the murder of my father Were, on the quarry of these murder'd deer, As loth to bear me to the slaughter-house. If one could match you: the scrimers of their nation Is there a murderer here? No;--yes, I am: 
None wed the second but who kill'd the first.
 Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? Commends the ingredients of our poison'd chalice A grave? O, no, a lanthorn, slaught'red youth, His secret murders sticking on his hands;