Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none of it.
SHAKS.: _Macbeth,_ Act v., Sc. 3.
But in their stead Curses, not loud but deep, mouth honor, breath, Which the poor heart would fain deny, and dare not.
honor curses heart breath deep poor mouth dare
dogs
Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas'd; Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; Raze out the written troubles of the brain; And, with some sweet oblivious antidote, Cleanse the stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff, Which weighs upon the heart?
mind memory heart sorrow sweet troubles brain written
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