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At this hour
Lies at my mercy all mine enemies.
Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself,
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply
Passion as they, be kindlier moved than thou art?
Of two most rare affections. Heavens rain grace
On that whitch breeds between 'em.
We are such stuff
As dreams are made on; and our little life
Is rounded with a sleep.
If thou beest a man, show thyself in thy likeness: if thou beest a devil, tak´t as thou list. HMY: E´ du ein mann, så vis dæ som et menniskj. E´ du en jævel så veit da faen.
Hen fyllikan hi snytti oss fer livet. Hen kjæftaurin, hen slampen - skoill ønsk at du låg druknan poinni ti tsunamibølgå.
STEFANO:
....
For she had a tongue with a tang,
Would cry to a sailor 'Go hang!'
She loved not the savour of tar nor of pitch,
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch
Act 2, scene 2
Sebastian:
Thou dost snore distinctly; There's meaning in thy snores