You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of read more

You tell your doctor, that y' are ill
And what does he, but write a bill,
Of which you need not read one letter,
The worse the scrawl, the dose the better.
For if you knew but what you take,
Though you recover, he must break.

You behold in me
Only a travelling Physician;
One of the few who have a mission
read more

You behold in me
Only a travelling Physician;
One of the few who have a mission
To cure incurable diseases,
Or those that are called so.

But, when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm'd the politician,
Cur'd yesterday of my read more

But, when the wit began to wheeze,
And wine had warm'd the politician,
Cur'd yesterday of my disease,
I died last night of my physician.

But nothing is more estimable than a physician who, having
studied nature from his youth, knows the properties of read more

But nothing is more estimable than a physician who, having
studied nature from his youth, knows the properties of the human
body, the diseases which assail it, the remedies which will
benefit it, exercises his art with caution, and pays equal
attention to the rich and the poor.
- Voltaire (Francois Marie Arouet Voltaire),

I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would read more

I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind, and all the worse for the fishes.

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where read more

I bought an unction of a mountebank,
So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,
Where it draws blood so cataplasm so rare,
Collected from all simples that have virtue
Under the moon, can save the thing from death
That is but scratched withal. I'll touch my point
With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,
It may be death.

Medicine, the only profession that labors incessantly to destroy the reason for its existence.

Medicine, the only profession that labors incessantly to destroy the reason for its existence.

This is the way that physicians mend or end us,
Secundum artem: but although we sneer
In read more

This is the way that physicians mend or end us,
Secundum artem: but although we sneer
In health--when ill, we call them to attend us,
Without the least propensity to jeer.

Because all the sick do not recover, therefore medicine is not an
art.
[Lat., Aegri quia non omnes read more

Because all the sick do not recover, therefore medicine is not an
art.
[Lat., Aegri quia non omnes convalescunt, idcirco ars nulla
medicina est.]