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melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
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Oh, that this too too sullied flesh would...
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Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His cannon 'gainst self-slaughter!
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Oh, that this too too sullied flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew!
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Oh, God, God, how weary stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
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Or that the Everlasting had not fixed His cannon 'gainst self-slaughter!
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Fie on it, ah, fie!
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Oh, God, God, how weary stale, flat, and unprofitable seem to me all the uses of this world!
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question
'Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed.
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Fie (fee) on it, ah, fie!
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Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.
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'Tis an unweeded garden that grows to seed.
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That it should come to this!
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Things rank and gross in nature possess it merely.
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But two months dead
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That it should come to this!
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nay, not so much, not two.
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But two months dead
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So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr
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nay, not so much, not two.
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so loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly.
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So excellent a king, that was to this Hyperion to a satyr
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Heaven and earth, must I remember?
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so loving to my mother that he might not beteem the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly.
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Why, she would hang on him as if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on, and yet within a month
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Heaven and earth, must I remember?
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Let me not think on it
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Why, she would hang on him as if increase of appetite had grown by what it fed on, and yet within a month
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frailty, thy name is woman!
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Let me not think on it
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A little month, or ere those shoes were old with which she followed my poor father's body,
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frailty, thy name is woman!
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like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she
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A little month, or ere those shoes were old with which she followed my followed my poor father's body,
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Oh, God, a beast, that wants discourse of reason, would have mourned longer
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like Niobe, all tears, why she, even she
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married with my uncle, my father's brother
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Oh, God, a beast, that wants discourse of reason, would have mourned longer
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but no more like my father than I to Hercules.
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married with my uncle, my father's brother
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Within a month, ere yet the salt of most unrighteous tears had left the flushing in her gallèd eyes, she married.
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but no more like my father than I to Hercules.
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Oh, most wicked speed, to post with such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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Within a month, ere yet the salt of most unrighteous teas had left the flushing in her gallèd eyes, she married.
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It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
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Oh, most wicked speed, to post with such dexterity to incestuous sheets!
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But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue.
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It is not, nor it cannot come to good.
