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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The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife, Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! Pour the sweet milk of concord into hell, Or of a courtier, which could say 'Good morrow, sweet lord! To follow this fair corse unto her grave: Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd, To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment. And cheer his grace with quick and merry eyes. Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha! And blow them at the moon: O, 'tis most sweet, For beauty, starv'd with her severity, See where she comes from shrift with merry look.