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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On this fair corse; and, as the custom is, An anchor's cheer in prison be my scope! Of limping winter treads, even such delight | That's a fair thought to lie between maids' legs. |
If good, thou sham'st the music of sweet news Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, Nor cheer of mind that I was wont to have. Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh, oh, oh! Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep You are merry, my lord. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, - The devil to his fellow; and delight
O, your only jig-maker! What should a man do but be merry? That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, The most replenished sweet work of nature Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.-- That fair for which love groan'd for, and would die,