Recently, there has been a lot of finger-pointing about who may or may not have sold some poison to a teenager, particularly Romeo Montague—whose life has been cut tragically short. Many of you have named me as the culprit, but I can neither confirm nor deny it as I am bound by doctor-patient confidentiality. It would violate the oath I took as an apothecary to divulge such information.
Sure, I was seen with Romeo the night of his death, but that could have been for anything—some horehound for a cold or perhaps frankincense for early-onset arthritis. I cannot say, because I am bound by law not to disclose what I prescribe for a patient. Why, many of you in this very room have come to me under the cloak of night to buy drams that you hope to keep a secret from your wives and neighbors. Suppose I were to open up about one of my patients, who is to say what other secrets I may spill?
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