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" Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry " Hold, hold !  "
The Shakespeare Phrase Book - 420. oldal
szerző: John Bartlett - 1881 - 1034 oldal
Teljes nézet - Információ erről a könyvről

Specimens of the Table Talk of the Late Samuel Taylor Coleridge ..., 1. kötet

Samuel Taylor Coleridge - 1835
...untwisting its own strength. Perhaps the true reading in Macbeth* is — blank " Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, | Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark !" Act i., ac. 5. But, after all, may not the ultimate...

The Tin Trumpet, Or Heads and Tales, for the Wise and Waggish: To ..., 2. kötet

Horace Smith - 1836 - 295 oldal
...liberties and happiness of mankind, they would rather cry out, with Macbeth, — -" Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor Heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry hold ! hold !" LANDSCAPE GARDENING— Artificial...

The Tin Trumpet: Or Heads and Tales, for the Wise and Waggish. To ..., 1. kötet

Horace Smith - 1836
...liberties and happiness of mankind, they would rather cry out, with Macbeth, — ' Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor Heuven peep through the blanket of the dark^ To cry hold ! hold !" LANDSCAPE GARDENING— Artificial...

Winter's tale. Comedy of errors. Macbeth. King John. Richard II. Henry IV, pt. 1

William Shakespeare - 1836
...Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night, And pall3 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,4 To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor...

The Dramatic Works and Poems of William Shakespeare, 1. kötet

William Shakespeare - 1836
...ministers, Wherever in your signless substances You wait on nature's mii*chief! Come, thick night, And pall1 ence, madam. L. Maal. He had none ; His flight was madness : When our actions do : Nor heaven pe«p through the blanket of the dark,2 To cry, Hold, hold ! Cawdor ! reat Glamis ! worthy...

Select plays from Shakspeare; adapted for the use of schools and young ...

William Shakespeare - 1836
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall5 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor...

Shakespeare's Autobiographical Poems: Being His Sonnets Clearly Developed ...

Charles Armitage Brown - 1838 - 306 oldal
...heroines, not men and women. The lines objected to, as " poetry debased," are — " Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven pfiep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold !" The learned lexicographer...

Complete Works: With Dr. Johnson's Preface, a Glossary, and an Account of ...

William Shakespeare - 1838 - 926 oldal
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night, And a ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! wurthy Cawdor...

The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors ...

William Shakespeare - 1839
...Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall 3 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, 4 To cry, Hold, hold! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor!...

The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare: Winter's tale. Comedy of errors ...

William Shakespeare - 1839
...Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! Come, thick night, And pall3 thee in the dunnest smoke of hell! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; Nor heaven peep through the blanket of the dark,4 To cry, Hold, hold ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor...




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