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Let my consort take her appointed place on the throne. But first let her offer a toast in your honour.


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ALL: And you will hear our reply, prompted by our hearts. Give life to pleasure And death to sorrow. Let hate and scorn fly from us and let love alone reign here. Let us savour the balm for every wound which gives new life to the heart. Let us cast dull care from our hearts; give life to pleasure and death to sorrow. ALL: Let us cast dull care from our hearts; give life to pleasure and death to sorrow. I precedenti. Un Sicario si affaccia ad un uscio laterale.

Macbeth gli si fa presso. An assassin appears at a side door. Macbeth goes up to him.

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But Banquo? Macbeth dismisses the assassin, who leaves. Macbeth va per sedere. Le ciocche cruente non scuotermi incontro. Svegliate la gioia! Vuotiam per l'inclito Banco i bicchieri! Fior de' guerrieri, Di Scozia onor.

LA GUERRA DEGLI ITALIANI 1940 - 1945 SPECIAL EDITION (BOOK & 4 DVD BOX SET)

Spalanca una fossa, O terra l'ingoia. Fiammeggian quell'ossa! Quel sangue fumante mi sbalza nel volto! Quel guardo a me volto trafiggemi il cor! Diventa pur tigre, leon minaccioso M'abbanca Macbetto tremar non vedrai, Conoscer potrai - s'io provi timor Ma fuggi! L'Ombra sparisce La vita riprendo!

That courageous man who would complete the chosen circle of the most worthy in all our kingdom. ALL: What? Do not shake your bloody locks at me! ALL: getting up Macbeth is ill. His sickness is passing. All our guests are unhappy. Re-awaken enjoyment! Let the cheering toast be sung again, and let us not forget Banquo who is not with us. Give life to pleasure and death to sorrow. Let us empty our glasses to illustrious Banquo! The flower of warriors, The pride of Scotland. Earth, open a ditch and swallow him. Those bones are burning, that steaming blood sprays in my face!

That look is turned on me And pierces my heart! ALL: Oh misfortune! You may become a tiger, a threatening lion, you may snatch me, but you will not see Macbeth tremble.

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You will discover if I feel fear! But leave me! Leave me, awesome ghost! The ghost disappears I am coming back to life! I shall go to the witches and pierce the veil of the future.

Your fright has created idle phantoms. The crime is done. The dead cannot return. He has spoken terrified by phantoms.

L’offerta di schiavitù: Una Fantasia BDSM (Italian Edition)

This land has become a den of thieves. ALL: Sinister mysteries! Act 3 Top Act 2 Act 4. Un'oscura caverna. Nel mezzo una caldaia che bolle. Tuoni e lampi. A dark cave. In the middle is a boiling cauldron. Thunder and lightning. Tre volte miagola la gatta in fregola. Tre volte l'upupa lamenta ed ulula. Tre volte l'istrice guaisce al vento. Su via! Tu, rospo venefico Che suggi l'aconito, Tu, vepre, tu, radica Sbarbata al crepuscolo Va', cuoci e gorgoglia Nel vaso infernal.

Tu, dito d'un pargolo Strozzato nel nascere. Tu, labbro d'un Tartaro, Tu, cuor d'un eretico, Va' dentro, e consolida La polta infernal. Voi che mescere Ben sapete, Rimescete! Three times the cat has mewed in heat. Three times the hoopoe has mourned and wailed. Three times the porcupine has yelped to the wind.

ALL: This is the hour! Come, let us dance quickly round the cauldron and mix powerful brews in our circle. Sisters, to work! The water is steaming, crackling and bubbling. Poisonous toad, which sucks wolfsbane, thorn, root plucked at twilight, cook and bubble in the devil's pot. Tongue of viper, hair of bat, blood of monkey, tooth of dog, boil and be swallowed up in the infernal brew III.

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Finger of child strangled at birth, lip of Tartar, heart of heretic, thicken the hellish broth. ALL: Boil! Sprits, black and white, red and blue blend together! You who well know how, blend together! Si avanza verso le Streghe Che fate voi, misteriose donne?


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Ch'io sappia il mio destin, se cielo e terra Dovessero innovar l'antica guerra. Da Macduff ti guarda prudente. Solo un motto Tuono: apparisce un fanciullo insanguinato Taci, e n'odi le occulte parole. Esser puoi sanguinario, feroce: Nessun nato di donna ti nuoce.

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Tuoni e lampi: sorge un fanciullo coronato che porta un arboscello Ma che avvisa quel lampo, quel tuono? Un fanciullo col serto dei Re! Per magica possa Selva alcuna giammai non fu mossa. Otto Re passano l'uno dopo l'altro. Un terzo? O mio terror!

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