You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.

Take a little rum
The less you take the better
Pour it in the lakes
read more

Take a little rum
The less you take the better
Pour it in the lakes
Of Wener or of Wetter.
Dip a spoonful out
And mind you don't get groggy,
Pour it in the lake
Of Winnipissiogie.
Stir the mixture well
Lest it prove inferior,
Then put half a drop
Into Lake Superior.
Every other day
Take a drop in water,
You'll be better soon
Or at least you oughter.

(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!

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.]

Medicine sometimes snatches away health, sometimes gives it.

Medicine sometimes snatches away health, sometimes gives it.

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.

God heals and the doctor takes the fee.

God heals and the doctor takes the fee.

"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.