Let me examine my
stock. First of all, there are plague-lozenges, composed of angelica,
liquorice, flower of sulphur, myrrh, and oil of cinnamon. Secondly, an
electuary of bole-armoniac, hartshorn-shavings, saffron, and syrup of
wood-sorrel. I long to taste it. But then it would be running in the
doctor's teeth. Thirdly, there is a phial labelled _Aqua Theriacalis
Stillatitia_--in plain English, distilled treacle-water. A spoonful of
this couldn't hurt me. Fourthly, a packet of powders, entitled _Manus
Christi_--an excellent mixture. Fifthly, a small pot of diatesseron,
composed of gentian, myrrh, bayberries, and round aristolochia. I must
just taste it. Never mind the doctor! He does not know what agrees with
my constitution as well as I do myself. Physic comes as naturally to me
as mother's milk. Sixthly, there is _Aqua Epidemica_, commonly called
the Plague-Water of Matthias--delicious stuff! I will only just sip it.
What a fine bitter it has! I'm sure it must be very wholesome. Next, for
I've lost my count, comes salt of vipers--next, powder of unicorn's
horn--next, oil of scorpions from Naples--next, dragon-water--all
admirable. Then there are cloves of garlics--sovereign fortifiers of the
stomach--and, lastly, there is a large box of my favourite rufuses. How
many pills have I taken? Only half a dozen! Three more may as well go to
keep the others company.
Pages:
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95