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Chapter 9 Upon my honour, Sir, you have tore every bit of skin quite off the back of both my hands with your forceps, cried my uncle Tobyand you have crushd all my knuckles into the bargain with them to a jelly. Tis your own fault, said Dr. Slopyou should have clinchd your two fists together into the form of a childs head as I told you, and sat firm.I did so, answered my uncle Toby.Then the points of my forceps have not been sufficiently armd, or the rivet wants closingor else the cut on my thumb has made me a little aukwardor possiblyTis well, quoth my father, interrupting the detail of possibilitiesthat the experiment was not first made upon my childs head-piece.It would not have been a cherry- stone the worse, answered Dr. Slop.I maintain it, said my uncle Toby, it would have broke the cerebellum (unless indeed the skull had been as hard as a granado) and turnd it all into a perfect posset.Pshaw! replied Dr. Slop, a childs head is naturally as soft as the pap of an apple;the sutures give wayand besides, I could have extracted by the feet after.Not you, said she.I rather wish you would begin that way, quoth my father. Pray do, added my uncle Toby. |
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