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The queen, sir, very oft importun’d me To temper poisons for her; still pretending The satisfaction of her knowledge only In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose Was of more danger, did compound for her A certain stuff, which, being ta’en, would cease The present power of life; but in short time All offices of nature should again Do their due function. Act V., Sc. V.

Macbeth supplies us with a wise member of the profession, who, at a time when charlatans without number were promising to cure every malady, sees clearly that Lady Macbeth’s disease is beyond his power, and so informs Macbeth.

This disease is beyond my practice: * * * * * * infected minds To their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets. More needs she the divine than the physician:

Remove from her the means of all annoyance, And still keep eyes upon her. Act V., Sc. I.

King Macb. How does your patient, doctor?

Doct. Not so sick, my lord, As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, That keep her from her rest.