Use three Physicians,
Still-first Dr. Quiet,
Next Dr. Merry-man
And Dr. Dyet.

Use three Physicians,
Still-first Dr. Quiet,
Next Dr. Merry-man
And Dr. Dyet.

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of
fellowship with other human beings read more

One of the signs of passing youth is the birth of a sense of
fellowship with other human beings as we take our place among
them.

Oh, powerful bacillus,
With wonder how you fill us,
Every day!
While medical detectives,
read more

Oh, powerful bacillus,
With wonder how you fill us,
Every day!
While medical detectives,
With powerful objectives,
Watch your play.

It requires a great deal of faith for a man to be cured by his own placebos.

It requires a great deal of faith for a man to be cured by his own placebos.

A physician is nothing but a consoler of the mind.
[Lat., Medicus nihil aliud est quam animi consolatio.]

A physician is nothing but a consoler of the mind.
[Lat., Medicus nihil aliud est quam animi consolatio.]

The desire to take medicine is perhaps the greatest feature which distinguishes man from animals.

The desire to take medicine is perhaps the greatest feature which distinguishes man from animals.

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.

So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
Bold in the read more

So modern 'pothecaries, taught the art
By doctor's bills to play the doctor's part,
Bold in the practice of mistaken rules,
Prescribe, apply, and call their masters fools.

(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!