Doctor: [Your wife is] not so sick, my lord, as she is troubled with thick-coming fancies that keep her from her rest.

Husband: 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.