He hath abandoned his physicians, madam; under whose practices he
hath persecuted time with hope; and finds no other advantage in
the process but only the losing of hope by time.

COUNTESS.
This young gentlewoman had a father--O, that 'had!' how
sad a passage 'tis!--whose skill was almost as great as his
honesty; had it stretched so far, would have made nature
immortal, and death should have play for lack of work. Would, for
the king's sake, he were living! I think it would be the death of
the king's disease.

LAFEU.
How called you the man you speak of, madam?

COUNTESS.
He was famous, sir, in his profession, and it was his great right
to be so--Gerard de Narbon.

LAFEU.
He was excellent indeed, madam; the king very lately spoke
of him admiringly and mourningly; he was skilful enough to have
liv'd still, if knowledge could be set up against mortality.

BERTRAM.
What is it, my good lord, the king languishes of?

LAFEU.
A fistula, my lord.