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.

And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb,
Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have read more

And he said unto them, Ye will surely say unto me this proverb,
Physician, heal thyself: whatsoever we have heard done in
Capernaum, do also here in thy country.

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.

(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!

But in this point
All his tricks founder and he brings his physic
After his patient's death: read more

But in this point
All his tricks founder and he brings his physic
After his patient's death: the king already
Hath married the fair lady.

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. (Proverbs 17:22)

A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones. (Proverbs 17:22)

There is no medicine to cure hatred

There is no medicine to cure hatred

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.

Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?

Who shall decide when doctors disagree,
And soundest casuists doubt, like you and me?