Paracelsus

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Alms please! Some alms!

Christ's will, oh master!

Have mercy on us!

Look at my afflictions!

I don't deceive you!

Some alms!

A tiny piece of bread,

rich and mighty Mr. Pfefferkorn!

The plague to you!

Get the constable!

The Constable won't heal us!

And neither suffering and mischief.

It's your duty to guard us

from this, Magister!

You're in charge of public health!

This rabble should be in the infirmary!

The infirmary is crowded

with useless eaters.

Not enough alms.

Am I not doing enough

for the poor?

Don't brawl, be kind

and good company.

Who knows, maybe tomorrow we're all gone!

The Black Death is near.

I got a letter

from my brother-in-law in Sterzing.

The plague!

We're in God's hands.

Let's think about protection

for the citizens.

Mr. Mayor, it's very drafty here.

Let's go to the City Hall.

- Now?

I have a visitor

from the Imperial Court.

And I'm off to my patients.

Froben sent for me.

The book printer?

Is he still sick?

I'll see you tonight

after curfew.

Until then I wish you a healthy -

Bless you, Mr. Mayor!

- Live long!

Johannes!

Famulus!

Won't you carry my instruments?

Yes, sure.

But where to?

To Froben, of course.

If I could only sleep once.

It's like that every day, Mr. Froben!

You will die if you don't listen to me!

Don't bother me with your quack.

They say he has an elixir,

healing everything.

Magic and superstition!

Don't you talk about this Paracelsus.

Can't you handle me a bit gentler!

Don't be so squeamish!

Feels like you're sawing my legs!

You say I'm squeamish!

So chase away this Magister!

You can't bad-mouth

an academic scholar!

He's a blockhead! With all his Latin!

Well, how is your Lord?

See for yourself.

You have a rude maid, Mr. Froben.

You kept the bandage on,

like I told you?

Four days, it burns like ants!

I was just about to remove it.

Patience.

- Patience?

I do whatever you say, ...

... bloodletting, burning, torturing!

Seven months,

and you accuse me of being impatient?

Master, I can't stand it any longer!

You doubt my knowledge?

Dear doctor, I want to believe you,

but help me!

Well.

I'll help you.

- Really?

Serratura.

Cut off my leg? No!

Don't behave like a minor, dear Froben.

You see, it's a creeping decay.

It's aiming for your heart.

So I say:
chop of the limb.

Lies! Deceit! You think you can bully me!

I'm not that sick, I'm well after all!

I will show you...

...that I'm well.

Please, upon my soul!

Call for Paracelsus!

Who?

I'm fine with it.

Call him, foolish woman.

Strasbourg's two days away,

I won't wait that long.

He's here!

Here? - Yes.

Sit down, folks, it will take a while.

Theophrastus Bombastus von Hohenheim...

wrote all night long.

The light was burning till cock-crow!

He wrote! As if!

What do you think he did at night?

Don't you know?

He's contacting spirits!

They brew his potions!

I'm scared, I'm leaving!

Stay, silly Susan.

Paracelsus is as wild as mild.

Many stories going round in Germany...

of his hand's blessings.

Nothing will come of Paracelsus!

Famulus, get the surgeon and his servant!

What are you waiting for?

To the kitchen! Hot water! Fill all pots!

Hurry up!

Mr. Scholarus! Listen!

You have a heart?

- I think so.

Then please, don't go fast.

Slow down just a little, please!

I'll be as quick as a snail!

- Thanks!

You called for me, father?

Yes, right.

Go to the bridge to fisherman Egli.

Get the best salmon,

we have a high visitor.

The imperial ambassador,

Count von Hohenried.

Johannes!

Look at our striver!

Skip Collegium too?

- Where's your grumbly master?

Wants to cut off Froben's leg!

Long live science!

- Science is a harlot!

Johannes, what's got into you?

Johannes is in love!

How does she look?

- Must be humpy!

A wart on her nose!

How can I describe her?

Thieves! Robbers!

Let them, they're students!

Please, dear Studiosi,

these are silly jokes!

Stop or I'll jump out!

At your service, Lady!

I don't want your service,

disorderly and cocky guys!

Am I without honor?

In our great respect

we couldn't stand...

seeing rude fellows carrying you!

So you don't think of yourselves

as rude fellows?

We're students of the university.

These are my friends ...

Now give us orders!

You do what I tell you?

Well.

These three carry me

to my father's house...

And I?

And you?

You carry the fish!

I must go to the surgeon, anyway!

Unbelievable.

The boy's slow.

The maid, where's the maid?

Where's Paracelsus?

- We all wait for him!

I can't wait! If I wait then... he'll...

Paracelsus!

Not so loud!

- Let her!

Wait till it's your turn!

Paracelsus, for god's sake!

Upon my soul!

Jakob! I told you to let nobody in!

Propter Ordinatione.

Don't be sad.

Nature will help you.

But we will help nature.

I'll write a prescription. Get dressed.

When it's my turn...

... the torturers will have cut off

my Lord's leg!

What torturers?

The medics, the Magister, the surgeon!

God forgive me to call them that.

Learned men then.

Doctors and Professors.

Don't like to get in their way.

I heal my sick, they heal theirs.

Your sick, their sick!

Are there two kinds of sick?

Who's your Lord?

- Froben!

The book printer?

Froben, who published

the writings of Ulrich von Hutten?

And of Erasmus von Rotterdam?

Don't ask questions,

it's an emergency!

A right question is half the cure.

Please hurry up,

or you will be to late!

Jakob! My sword!

Bring this to the pharmacist.

Say it's from Paracelsus.

Or else they'll mix dogshit...

with mashed toads, these quacks!

Huh? Something else?

I see.

Give her this. Should buy

medicine though, no brandy.

Hurry! Or they'll do their bloody craft!

Jakob! Join me!

Well, here we are!

We're waiting, Mr. Chirurgus.

Nonsense, Magister!

Nobody has to wait!

I'm faster than a sparrow

after horse-sh*t!

Well, Froben. Cura Radicalis...

Short pain's better than

long affliction.

Our surgeon is a master, very agile!

No, I don't want it!

They all say that.

My leg's not hurting anymore!

Leave me!

It's not so bad.

Hot water! Keep all windows closed.

The bucket please.

Mercy!

I can't stand it anymore!

I'm wondering!

You're wondering.

But a wonder has to happen eventually!

He's bewitched.

- Boy can't stand blood!

Don't touch him until Paracelsus

checks on him!

Yes, wait!

So that's the riot!

You're not my Famulus anymore!

Thank god!

- I'll expel you Cum Infamia.

Well, I'm fed up

of your scholarliness!

Enough, time's lost, shut the boy up.

No! Help!

That's him.

Let's see, Master Sawbones.

Have no fear.

Does it hurt here? - Yes.

And here? - Yes.

Unacceptable.

You're not invited to the consilium.

The patient has called me,

isn't it so, Froben? - Yes.

I thought so. Useless, cruel and foolish.

You belittle my medical craft?

Your medical craft is a botch.

It's not the leg.

It is. Where else would it come from?

Sickness has four roots,

connected to the elements.

This one's of Saturn,

in his sign sidereal fires burn.

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