There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes.

There is at bottom only one genuinely scientific treatment for
all diseases, and that is to stimulate the phagocytes.

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.

In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
read more

In such a night
Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertrip the dew,
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself,
And ran dismayed away.

Even as a Surgeon, minding off to cut
Some cureless limb, before in use he put
His read more

Even as a Surgeon, minding off to cut
Some cureless limb, before in use he put
His violent Engins on the vicious member,
Bringeth his Patient in a senseless slumber,
And grief-less then (guided by use and art),
To save the whole, sawes off th' infected part.
- Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas,

Because all the sick do not recover, therefore medicine is not an
art.
[Lat., Aegri quia non omnes read more

Because all the sick do not recover, therefore medicine is not an
art.
[Lat., Aegri quia non omnes convalescunt, idcirco ars nulla
medicina est.]

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.

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their read more

And in requital ope his leathern scrip,
And show me simples of a thousand names,
Telling their strange and vigorous faculties.

You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

You rub the sore
When you should bring the plaster!

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.