Precipitation
Precipitation, in meteorology, is any type of water that falls from the sky as weather. This includes snow, rain, sleet, freezing rain and hail. Precipitation is a major part of the water cycle[?], and is responsible for depositing most of the fresh water on the planet. Precipitation is generated in clouds, which reach a point of saturation; at this point larger and larger droplets (or pieces of ice) form, which then fall to the earth under gravity. It is possible to 'seed' clouds to induce precipitation by releasing a fine dust or appropriate chemical (commonly silver nitrate) into a cloud, encouraging droplets to form, and increasing the probability of precipitation.In chemistry, precipitation is the condensation of a solid from a solution. This occurs when the solution is saturated, whereupon the solid forms, and usually sinks to the bottom of the solution.
See also umbrella.
And lay down.html">down life myself. 'Tis time the world.html">world
We two have kept its homage in suspense,
Till it was dented inwards. Let him walk
My torch is out; and the world stands before me,
I'll lay me down, and stray no farther on.
VENTIDIUS. I could be grieved,
For, I have seen him in such various shapes,
The life I bear is worn to such a rag,
We threw it from us with a better grace;
We might at last thrust out our paws, and wound
Ventidius, you must live.html">live.
VENTIDIUS. I must not, sir.
ANTONY. Wilt thou not live, to speak some good of me?
>From the ill tongues of men?
VENTIDIUS. Who shall guard mine,
And need no living witness.
ANTONY. Thou hast loved me,
Kill me, and take the merit of my death.html">death.html">death.html">death,
You said I loved you; and in recompense,
You would have used me thus?--that I should die.html">die
Since I have heard of Cleopatra's death,
But lets my thoughts break all at random out.
Let it not be to outlive you.
ANTONY. Kill me first,
Thy friend.html">friend, before thyself.
VENTIDIUS. Give me your hand.
[Embrace.]
Since death sweeps all distinctions, farewell, friend!
I will not make a business of a trifle;
Pray turn your face.
ANTONY. I do: strike home, be sure.
VENTIDIUS. Home as my sword will reach.
That wound was not of thine; give it me back:
But think 'tis the first time I e'er deceived you,
Forgive me, if you will; for I die perjured,
[Dies.]
ANTONY. Farewell! Ever my leader, even in death!
And I'm the lag of honour.--Gone so soon?
With a familiar kindness: ere he knocked,
As who should say--You're welcome at all hours,
.
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