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.

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.

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.

Constant attention by a good nurse may be just as important as a
major operation by a surgeon.

Constant attention by a good nurse may be just as important as a
major operation by a surgeon.

For of the most High cometh healing.

For of the most High cometh healing.

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.

God heals and the doctor takes the fee.

God heals and the doctor takes the fee.

When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.

When I was sick, you gave me bitter pills,
And I must minister the like to you.

(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!