long want of issue, else where barrenness is the best blossom of beauty, or, finally, where poor men's children for want of their own issue are not ready to be had. It is thought of some that it is very wholesome for a weak stomach to bear such a dog in the bosom, as it is for him that hath the palsy to feel the daily smell and savour of a fox. But how truly this is affirmed, let the learned judge: only it shall suffice for Dr Caius to have said thus much of spaniels and dogs of the gentle kind. WILLIAM HARRISON, Description of England 1587 (2nd ed.) § 6. The Plague [In Shakespeare's day the plague was an annual visitor to London. When there were over 30 deaths a week the theatres were closed. There were very few summers in which this did not happen.] It's an ill wind (a beggar speaks) If such plague do ensue it is no great loss. For, first, it shall not only deliver the miserable poor man, woman and bairns from hurt and carefulness into a better world, but also cut off many covetous usurers, which be like fat unclean swine, which do never good until they come to the dish, but root out every plant that they can come by; and like unto great stinking mickle midden-hills, which never do pleasure unto the land or ground until their heaps are cast abroad to the profits of many, which are kept neither to their own comforts nor others, but only in beheading them; like unto cruel dogs lying in a manger, neither eating the hay themselves nor suffering the horse to feed thereof himself. And in such plagues we poor people have mickle good. Their loss is our luck; when they do become naked, we then are clothed against their wills; with their doles and alms we are relieved; their sickness is our health, their death our life. Besides us pakers, many more men have good luck, as the vicar, parish clerk and the bell-man; oftentimes the executors be no losers by this game. And in fine, in my fantasy it is happy to the huntsman when he have nothing of the cat but the silly skin. We beggars reck nought of the carcase of the dead body, but do defy it; we look for old cast coats, jackets, hose, caps, belts and shoes, by their deaths which in their lives they would not depart from, and this is our hap. God send me of them. WILLIAM BULLEIN, A Dialogue against the Pestilence 1573 (1st ed. 1564) Treatment for the plague To preserve your body from the infection of the plague, you shall take a quart of old ale, and after it hath risen upon the fire and hath been scummed, you shall put thereinto of aristolochia longa, of angelica and of celandine of each half an handful, and boil them well therein; then strain the drink through a clean cloth, and dissolve therein a drachm of the best mithridate, as much ivory finely powdered and searced, and six spoonful of dragon-water, then put it up in a close glass; and every morning fasting take five spoonful thereof, and after bite and chew in your mouth the dried root of angelica, or smell, as on a nosegay, to the tasselled end of a ship rope, and they will surely preserve you from infection. But if you be infected with the plague, and feel the assured signs thereof, as pain in the head, drought, burning, weakness of stomach and such like: then you shall take a drachm of the best mithridate, and dissolve it in three or four spoonful of dragon-water, and immediately drink it off, and then with hot cloths or bricks, made extreme hot and laid to the soles of your feet, after you have been wrapt in woollen cloths, compel the sick party to sweat, which if he do, keep him moderately therein till the sore begin to rise; then to the same apply a live pigeon cut in two parts, or else a plaster made of the yolk of an egg, honey, herb of grace chopped exceeding small, and wheat flour, which in very short space will not only ripen, but also break the same without any other incision; then after it hath run a day or two, you shall apply a plaster of melilot unto it until it be whole. GERVASE MARKHAM, The English Hus-wife 1615 The flight from London Civis. Good wife, the daily jangling and ringing of the bells, the coming in of the minister to every house in ministring the communion, in reading the homily of death, the digging up of graves, the sparring in of windows, and the blazing forth of the blue cross, do make my heart tremble and quake. Alas, what shall I do to save my life? Uxor. Sir, we are but young, and have but a time in this world, what doth it profit us to gather riches together, and can not enjoy them? Why tarry we here so long? I do think every hour a year until we be gone; my heart is as cold as a stone, and as heavy as lead, God help me. Seeing that we have sent our children forth three weeks past into a good air and a sweet country, let us follow them. We shall be welcome to your brother's house, I dare say; my sister will rejoice in our coming, and so will all our friends there. Let us take leave of our neighbours, and return merely home again when the plague is past, and the dog days ended; and there you may occupy your stock, and have gain thereof. Civis. Oh, wife, we know not our return, for the Apostle saith to you that will say, "To-day or to-morrow we will go to such a city, and buy and sell, and have gain, and know not what shall happen to-morrow," "What is our life? It is as a vapour that appeareth for a little time, and afterward vanisheth away." For that ye ought to say, "If the Lord will and we live, we will to this or that place; and if it please God we will both depart and return again at His good will and pleasure"; for we are in His hands whither so ever we do go; and I trust it is not against God's commandment or pleasure that we depart from this infected air. Uxor. I know not what God will in our departing, but my flesh trembles when I do hear the death-bell ring. Civis. Yes surely, we have the Apostle saying (for our defence in flying), "No man ever yet hath hated his own flesh, but nourisheth and cherisheth it": therefore, who can nourish his flesh in a corrupted air, but rather do kill it? Further, I hear a doctor of physic say that one called Galen, in a book of treacle, [wrote] to one Pison, his friend, that the pestilence was like a monstrous hungry beast, devouring and eating not a few but sometimes whole cities, that by respiration or drawing in their breath do take the poisoned air. He lauded Hippocrates, which saith that to remove from the infected air into a cleaner, thereby, saith he, they did not draw in more foul air, and this was his only remedy for the plague. To them that did remain he commanded not only simple wood to be burned within the city of Athens, but also most sweet flowers and spices, perfumes, as gums and ointments, to purge the air. And, wife, fear of death enforced many holy men to fly as Jacob from his cruel brother Esau, David from Saul, Elias from Jezebel. The Christian men from fear of death did fly the tyranny of the papists, and although these men did not fly the pestilence, yet they fled all for fear of death; and so will we by God's grace observe such wholesome means, and obey His Divine providence. Also I will leave my house with my faithful friends, and take the keys of my chests with me. Where are our horses? Uxor. Our things are ready; have of our neighbours, man? you taken your leave Civis. I have done; so now let us depart, a God's blessing, good wife. Uxor. Give me my horse, Roger. Roger. Mistress, he is here ready at your hand, a good gelding. God bless him and sweet Saint Loye. Civis. Bring forth mine also, and let the servants forget nothing behind them, specially the steel casket. Let us ride fair and softly until we be out of the town. Uxor. How pleasant are these sweet fields, garnished with fair plants and flowers! the birds do sing sweetly and pitifully in the bushes; here are pleasant woods. Jesus, man, who would be in the city again? Not I, for an hundred pound. Oh, help me! my horse starteth, and had like to have been unsaddled; let me sit faster for falling. Civis. He is a bird-eyed jade, I warrant you, and you are no good horsewoman, for I did never see you ride before in all my life; but exercise will make you perfect. Your mother was a good horsewoman, and loved riding well as any gentlewoman that ever I knew in my life. Well, she is gone, and we must follow this is the world. Uxor. I never was so far from London in all my life. How far have we ridden already, sir, I pray you? Civis. Wife, we have ridden ten miles this morning. Civis. This is Barnet, whereas Samuel your son was nursed; and yonder is Richard Higmer's house; we will see him as we do return home again; we will not tarry now, because every inn is pestered with Londoners and carriers, and it is early days. How like you this town, dame? Uxor. A pretty street; but methink the people go very plain; it is no city as I do suppose by their manners. What house is this at the town's end, compassed with a moat? Civis. Here dwelleth a friend of ours; this is called the Fold. And here before is Dancers' Hill, and Rig Hill. Uxor. What great smoke is in yonder wood? God grant it be well. Civis. It is nothing but making of charcoal in that place. Uxor. Why, is charcoal made? I had thought all things had been made at London, yet I did never see no charcoals made there: by my troth, I had thought that they had grown upon trees, and had not been made. WILLIAM BULLEIN, A Dialogue against the Pestilence 1573 (1st ed. 1564) |