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Cliquer sur les vers pour les voir dans leur contexte. Les pièces de Shakespeare sont disponibles auprès du Projet Gutenberg.

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Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount,

 
What's he that follows there, that would not dance?
 The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. That I might be the organ. What does the tyrant? Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen. That in gold clasps locks in the golden story; Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children? Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done. Breathing like sanctified and pious bawds, Together with all forms, moods, shows of grief, Must there no more be done? What satisfaction canst thou have to-night? By this one bloody trial of sharp war. I did, my lord. The tyrant has not batter'd at their peace? And, if thou prate of mountains, let them throw Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath, Who's there?