Simples

Hamlet [4.7.140-148]. Laertes. “I will do ‘t./ And for that purpose I’ll anoint my sword,/ I bought an unction of a mountebank/ So mortal that, but dip a knife in it,/ Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare,/ Collect from all simples that have virtue/ Under the moon, can save the thing from death/ That is but scratch’d withal. I’ll touch my point/ With this contagion, that, if I gall him slightly,/ It may be death.”