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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Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide; Poor soul, thy face is much abus'd with tears. New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's death, And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, It is the cry of women, my good lord. With tears augmenting the fresh morning's dew, Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses, Ay, millstones; as he lesson'd us to weep. How can we aid you with our kindred tears? And cry "O Clarence, my unhappy son!" Our tears are not yet brew'd. Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help! The people in the street cry Romeo, You live that shall cry woe for this hereafter. That tears shall drown the wind.--I have no spur