C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Poison

It is medicine, not poison, I offer you.

Lessing.

To rankling poison hast thou turned in me the milk of human kindness.

Schiller.

While Fell was reposing himself in the hay,
A reptile concealed bit his leg as he lay;
But, all venom himself, of the wound he made light,
And got well, while the scorpion died of the bite.

Lessing.

All men carry about them that which is poyson to serpents: for if it be true that is reported, they will no better abide the touching with man’s spittle than scalding water cast upon them: but if it happen to light within their chawes or mouth, especially if it come from a man that is fasting, it is present death.

Pliny.

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