"And is it possible," said the ogress, "that the world is lost to this poor prince, and that no remedy can be found for his malady? Bid physic then creep into the oven—bid the doctors put a halter round their necks—bid Galen and Mesue[1] return the money to their pupils, since they cannot find any effectual recipe to restore health to the prince."
"Hark-ye, Granny," replied the ogre, "the doctors are not called upon to find remedies that may pass the bounds of nature. This is no common cholic that an oil-bath might remove; it is not a boil to be cured with fig-poultices, nor a fever that will yield to medicine and diet; much less are these ordinary wounds which require pledgets of lint and oil of hypericon; for the charm that was on the broken glass produces the same effect as onion-juice does on the iron heads of arrows, which makes the wound incurable. There is one thing only that could save his life; but don't ask me to tell it you, for it is a thing of importance." "Do tell me, dear old Long-tusk!" cried the ogress; "tell me, if you would not see me die." "Well then," said the ogre, "I will tell you, provided you promise me not to confide it to any living soul; for it would be the ruin of our house and the destruction of our lives." "Fear
- ↑ There were two famous physicians of this name; one physician to the Khalif Haroun al Raschid in the ninth century; the other lived at Cahira in the eleventh century.—L.
