Assistant: Master, what’s wrong?
Pythagoras: This shoulder pain. All last night I was proofing right angles. Leaning to one side.
Assistant: Master. I know a good doctor called Hippocrates. He will put your humors in balance.
Pythagoras. I don’t need that Hippocrates and his humors. I’m waiting for Leonardo. Meantime, I need some Counterpain. Run out and get some me some from the pain shop. There’s a good lad. Here’s two drachma.
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