(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with read more

(Macbeth:) How does your patient, doctor?
(Doctor:) Not so sick, my lord,
As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies
That keep her from her rest.
(Macbeth:) Cure her of that!
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased,
Pluck from the memory of a rooted sorrow,
Raze out the written troubles of the brain,
And with some sweet oblivious antidote
Cleanse the stuffed bosom of the perilous stuff
Which weighs upon the heart?
(Doctor:) Therein the patient
Must minister to himself.
(Macbeth:) Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it!

He (Tiberius) was wont to mock at the arts of physicians, and at
those who, after thirty years of read more

He (Tiberius) was wont to mock at the arts of physicians, and at
those who, after thirty years of age, needed counsel as to what
was good or bad for their bodies.

Though bitter, good medicine cures illness. Though it may hurt,
loyal criticism will have beneficial effects.

Though bitter, good medicine cures illness. Though it may hurt,
loyal criticism will have beneficial effects.

Better use medicines at the outset than at the last moment.

Better use medicines at the outset than at the last moment.

A disorderly patient makes the physician cruel.
[Lat., Crudelem medicum intemperans aeger facit.]

A disorderly patient makes the physician cruel.
[Lat., Crudelem medicum intemperans aeger facit.]

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.

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.

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

There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better read more

There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow