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.
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We have to ask ourselves whether medicine is to remain a humanitarian and respected profession or a new but depersonalized read more
We have to ask ourselves whether medicine is to remain a humanitarian and respected profession or a new but depersonalized science in the service of prolonging life rather than diminishing human suffering.
'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
'Tis time to give 'em physic, their diseases
Are grown so catching.
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider
By med'cine life may be read more
Who worse than a physician
Would this report become? But I consider
By med'cine life may be prolonged, yet death
Will seize the doctor too. How ended she?
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.
I have heard that Tiberius used to say that that man was
ridiculous, who after sixth years, appealed to read more
I have heard that Tiberius used to say that that man was
ridiculous, who after sixth years, appealed to a physician.
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.
To array a man's will against his sickness is the supreme art of medicine.
To array a man's will against his sickness is the supreme art of medicine.
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better read more
There is no medicine like hope, no incentive so great, and no tonic so powerful as expectation of something better tomorrow
I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk
to the bottom of the sea, it read more
I firmly believe that if the whole materia medica could be sunk
to the bottom of the sea, it would be all the better for mankind
and all the worse for the fishes.
