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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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Poor living corse, clos'd in a dead man's tomb!

 Or my dear majesty your queen here, think, Would to the bleeding and the grim alarm Hold, daughter. I do spy a kind of hope, Lend favourable ear to our requests; Come, go, good Juliet [noise within],--I dare no longer stay. Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. This lapwing runs away with the shell on his head. Whose unavoided eye is murderous. Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? That in the sty of the most deadly boar But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds 
Is very good meat in Lent;
 Drink off this potion.--Is thy union here? Romeo, good night.--I'll to my truckle-bed; Enrich the time to come with smooth'd-fac'd peace, But Macbeth is. And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage!