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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That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. Ay, truly; for the power of beauty will sooner transform Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. Methought it was very sweet; I thought thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid, No more, sweet Hamlet. No more, sweet Hamlet. What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?-- Nor aught so good but, strain'd from that fair use, On the fair daughter of rich Capulet: How cheerfully on the false trail they cry! Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him By any other name would smell as sweet; Here in the cheer and comfort of our eye, For beauty, starv'd with her severity, With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! My words would bandy her to my sweet love,