Maryland and Virginia Medical Journal, Band 13

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Seite 395 - Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand ? Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. Art thou not, fatal vision, sensible To feeling as to sight ? or art thou but A dagger of the mind, a false creation, Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain ? I see thee yet, in form as palpable As this which now I draw.
Seite 390 - Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty: For in my youth I never did apply Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood; Nor did not with unbashful forehead woo The means of weakness and debility; Therefore my age is as a lusty winter, Frosty, but kindly: let me go with you; I'll do the service of a younger man In all your business and necessities.
Seite 395 - Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other senses, Or else worth all the rest ; I see thee still, And on thy blade and dudgeon gouts of blood, Which was not so before. There's no such thing : It is the bloody business which informs Thus to mine eyes.
Seite 253 - III. of the Transactions of the Association of the Fellows and Licentiates of the King's and Queen's College of Physicians in Ireland.
Seite 392 - Holds such an enmity with blood of man, That, swift as quicksilver, it courses through The natural gates and alleys of the body ; And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset And curd, like eager droppings into milk, The thin and wholesome blood...
Seite 396 - Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep, the innocent sleep ; Sleep, that knits up the ravelled sleave* of care, The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast ; — Lady M.
Seite 396 - Sleep no more ! Macbeth does murder sleep,' the innocent sleep, Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care, The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath, Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course, Chief nourisher in life's feast, — Lady M. What do you mean ? Macb. Still it cried ' Sleep no more ! ' to all the house : ' Glamis hath murder'd sleep, and therefore Cawdor Shall sleep no more ; Macbeth shall sleep no more.
Seite 396 - Cure her of that. Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, Raze out the written troubles of the brain And with some sweet oblivious antidote Cleanse the stuff d bosom of that perilous stuff Which weighs upon the heart?
Seite 471 - And, having dropped the expected bag, pass on. He whistles as he goes, light-hearted wretch ! Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; To him indifferent whether grief or joy.
Seite 125 - ... the species. If a dry season be gradually prolonged, the large mammal will suffer from the drought sooner than the small one ; if such alteration of climate affect the quantity of vegetable food, the bulky Herbivore will first feel the effects of stinted nourishment ; if new enemies are introduced, the large and conspicuous quadruped or bird will fall a prey, whilst the smaller species conceal themselves and escape. Smaller animals are usually, also, more prolific than larger ones.

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