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(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!
There is no medicine to cure hatred
There is no medicine to cure hatred
Better use medicines at the outset than at the last moment.
Better use medicines at the outset than at the last moment.
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.
A doctor's reputation is made by the number of eminent men who die under his care.
A doctor's reputation is made by the number of eminent men who die under his care.
Medicine sometimes snatches away health, sometimes gives it.
Medicine sometimes snatches away health, sometimes gives it.
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.
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?
