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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

Shakespeare's Scholar: Being Historical and Critical Studies of His Text ...

Richard Grant White - 1854 - 504 oldal
...yon gray is not the morning nktj, Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's lmw"f "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 ! ' " this MS. corrector would...

The Miscellaneous Works, 2. kötet

William Hazlitt - 1854
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait o> nature's mischief. 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 !"— When she first hears that...

An Account of the Life, Opinions, and Writings of John Milton: With an ...

Thomas Keightley - 1855 - 484 oldal
...are convinced, never came in their present form from the pen of Shakespeare. Come thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell, That my keen knife see not the wound it makes, Nor llcaxen peep through the blanket of the dark. To cry, Hold, hold !— Macb. i. 5. At no time could...

A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent ...

Sarah Josepha Buell Hale - 1855 - 576 oldal
...night's yawning peal, there shall be done A deed of dreadful note. Shaks. Maeheth. Come, thiek 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 ery, hold, hold! Shake. Maeheth. Thou sure and firm-set...

The works of William Shakspere. Knight's Cabinet ed., with ..., 9. kötet

William Shakespeare - 1856
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! 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!" Great Glamis, worthy Cawdor...

La Collerica: comedietta in un atto

1857
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick night, And pall thee in the dunnest smoke of hell ! That my keen knife see not the wound it makes ; 3ior heaven peep through the blanket of the dark, To cry, Hold, hold!— Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor...

The philosophy of William Shakespeare delineating in seven hundred and fifty ...

William Shakespeare - 1857
...murd'ring ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick 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 ! Great Glamis ! worthy night!...

The Works of William Shakespeare, 5. kötet

William Shakespeare - 1857
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief! 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 (u) of the dark, To cry, " Hold, hold !" Enter MACBETH. Great Glamis...

The Complete Works of Shakspeare, Revised from the Best ..., 1. kötet

William Shakespeare - 1857
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! 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 ! " — Great Glamis ! worthy...

Shakspearian Reader: A Collection of the Most Approved Plays of Shakspeare ...

William Shakespeare - 1857 - 469 oldal
...ministers, Wherever in your sightless substances You wait on nature's mischief ! 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 ! Great Glamis ! worthy Cawdor...




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