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CANTO LVIII.
The sewers of Hell are flushed with patent medicines. Such medicines as were sold on earth to enrich the inventor, but were of no benefit whatever to the patient. Wallowing in this stream of mysterious decoction the explorer sees the souls of quack doctors. To add to the punishment of gulping their own poison, unceasing showers of large pills descend, the doctors frantically beating the air in their endeavors to ward off the bitter storm.
