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.

Doctors are men who prescribe medicines of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, in read more

Doctors are men who prescribe medicines of which they know little, to cure diseases of which they know less, in human beings of whom they know nothing

He (Tiberius) was wont to mock at the arts of physicians, and at
those who, after thirty years of read more

He (Tiberius) was wont to mock at the arts of physicians, and at
those who, after thirty years of age, needed counsel as to what
was good or bad for their bodies.

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 rich Physician, honor'd Lawyers ride,
Whilst the poor Scholar foots it by their side.
[Lat., Dat read more

The rich Physician, honor'd Lawyers ride,
Whilst the poor Scholar foots it by their side.
[Lat., Dat Galenus opes, dat Justinianus honores,
Sed genus species cogitur ire pedes.]

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.

For of the most High cometh healing.

For of the most High cometh healing.

(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!

Adrian, the Emperor, exclaimed incessantly, when dying, "That the
crowd of physicians had killed him."

Adrian, the Emperor, exclaimed incessantly, when dying, "That the
crowd of physicians had killed him."