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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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Acquaint her here of my son Paris' love;

 Been thus encounter'd. A figure like your father, His son was but a ward two years ago. A brother's murder!--Pray can I not, 
  • Come you to make confession to this father?
 Like a good child and a true gentleman. But in your daughter's womb I bury them: And not these bastard Britagnes, whom our fathers Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter: Than is his father's, must embrace the fate You've been selected to ENTER to WIN! Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd, For thee to slaughter: for my daughters, Richard,-- The weird sisters, hand in hand, My brother shall know of it: and so I thank you for your good 
'One fair daughter, and no more,
 My lord, he's going to his mother's closet: Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the sisters At such a time I'll loose my daughter to him: