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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.
I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt'red weeds, with read more
I do remember an apothecary,
And hereabouts 'a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt'red weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples. Meagre were his looks,
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones;
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,
An alligator stuffed, and other skins
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves
A beggarly account of empty boxes,
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds,
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses
Were thinly scattered, to make up a show.
Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange read more
Learn'd he was in medic'nal lore,
For by his side a pouch he wore,
Replete with strange hermetic powder
That wounds nine miles point-blank would solder.
We have to ask ourselves whether medicine is to remain a humanitarian and respected profession or a new but depersonalized read more
We have to ask ourselves whether medicine is to remain a humanitarian and respected profession or a new but depersonalized science in the service of prolonging life rather than diminishing human suffering.
I find the medicine worse than the malady.
I find the medicine worse than the malady.
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.
The miserable hath no other medicine but only hope
The miserable hath no other medicine but only hope
We do not bear sweets; we are recruited by a bitter potion.
[Lat., Dulcia non ferimus; succo renovamus amaro.]
We do not bear sweets; we are recruited by a bitter potion.
[Lat., Dulcia non ferimus; succo renovamus amaro.]
"Is there no hope?" the sick man said,
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his read more
"Is there no hope?" the sick man said,
The silent doctor shook his head,
And took his leave with signs of sorrow,
Despairing of his fee to-morrow.