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 Tu-whit, tu-who ! a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doth blow, And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow, And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in...  Midsummer-night's dream. Love's labor's lost. Merchant of Venice. As you ... - Strana 165 podľa William Shakespeare - 1836 Úplné zobrazenie -
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