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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To time and mortal custom.--Yet my heart That are but mutes or audience to this act, Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch! I fear no uncles dead. The least a death to nature. As hush as death, anon the dreadful thunder An older and a better soldier none Than death can yield me here by my abode. Your son, my lord, has paid a soldier's debt: Death is my son-in-law, death is my heir; When thou shalt tell the process of their death. And the rank poison of the old will die. Sirrah, your father's dead; The other Edward dead to quit my Edward; Are here arriv'd, give order that these bodies Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely more But old folks, many feign as they were dead; And these,--who, often drown'd, could never die,-- Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, Told the sad story of my father's death, Of disobedient opposition