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Good night, sweet prince, And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!

Godt sagt! (3) Varsle Svar

'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world. Now could I drink hot blood And do such bitter business as the bitter day Would quake to look on.

Godt sagt! (0) Varsle Svar

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