Macbeth: How does your patient, doctor? Doctor: Not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from rest. Macbeth: Cure her of that! Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased, pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow, raze out the written troubles of the brain, and with some sweet oblivious antidote cleanse the stuffed bosom of that perilous stuff which weighs upon her heart. Doctor: Therein the patient must minister to himself. William Shakespeare
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More Quotes By William Shakespeare
  1. Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none.

  2. Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.

  3. This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.

  4. The course of true love never did run smooth.

  5. O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father refuse thy name, thou art thyself thou not a montegue, what is montegue? tis nor hand nor foot nor any other part belonging to a man What is in a name? That which we call...

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