A Book about doctors

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Rudd & Carleton, 1861 - 490 pages
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Page 190 - And when I die, be sure you let me know Great Homer died three thousand years ago. Why did I write ? what sin to me unknown Dipt me in ink, my parents...
Page 456 - Not far from that most celebrated place,* Where angry Justice shows her awful face ; Where little villains must submit to fate, That great ones may enjoy the world in state; There stands a dome, majestic to the sight, And sumptuous arches bear its oval height ; A golden globe, placed high with artful skill, Seems, to the distant sight, a gilded pill.
Page 59 - Tis strange the Miser should his cares employ To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy : Is it less strange the Prodigal should waste His wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste? Not for himself he sees, or hears, or eats; Artists must choose his pictures, music, meats : He buys for Topham drawings and designs; For Pembroke statues, dirty gods, and coins ; Rare monkish manuscripts for Hearne alone, And books for Mead, and butterflies for Sloane.
Page 488 - With speed that, entering, speaks his haste to go, He bids the gazing throng around him fly, And carries fate and physic in his eye...
Page 64 - A Moralist perchance appears; Led, Heaven knows how! to this poor sod: And he has neither eyes nor ears; Himself his world...
Page 46 - For of the most High cometh healing, And he shall receive honour of the king. The skill of the physician shall lift up his head : And in the sight of great men he shall be in admiration.
Page 367 - Better to hunt in fields for health unbought Than fee the doctor for a nauseous draught. The wise for cure on exercise depend ; God never made his work for man to mend.
Page 191 - Service, He acquired, or more properly created, A MINISTERIAL ESTATE. He was the only Person of his Time, Who could CHEAT without the Mask of HONESTY, Retain his Primeval MEANNESS When possessed of TEN THOUSAND a Year, And having daily deserved the GIBBET for what he did, Was at last condemned to it for what he could not do.
Page 368 - My system, doctor, is my own, No tutor I pretend; My blunders hurt myself alone, But yours your dearest friend. Were you to milk and straw confined, Thrice happy might you be; Perhaps you might regain your mind, And from your wit be free.
Page 491 - POSTAGE FREE, to any part of the United States. This convenient and very safe mode may be adopted when the neighboring Booksellers are not supplied with the desired work. State name and address in full.

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