PART II.PRACTICE OF MEDICINE.

Shakespeare’s maladies are many and the symptoms very well defined. Diseases of the nervous system seem to have been a favorite study, especially insanity; Lear, Timon, and Hamlet being excellent examples.

And he * * * (a short tale to make),Fell into a sadness; then into a fast;Thence to a watch; thence into a weakness;Thence to a lightness; and, by this declensionInto the madness wherein now he raves.Hamlet, Act II., Sc. II.He took me by the wrist and held me hard;Then goes he to the length of all his arm;And with his other hand thus o’er his brow,He falls to such perusal of my face,As he would draw it. Long stay’d he so;At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,And thrice his head thus waving up and down,He raised a sigh so piteous and profound,That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,And end his being: That done, he lets me go:And, with his head o’er his shoulder turn’d,He seem’d to find his way without his eyes;For out o’ doors he went without their help,And, to the last, bended their light on me.Hamlet, Act II., Sc. I.Alas, how is it with you,That you do bend your eye on vacancy,And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,Starts up, and stands on end.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. IV.O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!The courtier’s, scholar’s, soldier’s, eye, tongue, sword:The expectancy and rose of the fair state,The glass of fashion and the mould of form,The observed of all observers,—quite, quite down!And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,That suck’d the honey of his music vows,Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;That unmatch’d form and feature of blown youth,Blasted with ecstasy.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. I.There’s something in his soul,O’er which his melancholy sits on brood;And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose,Will be some danger.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. I.Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d;Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;Raze out the written troubles of the brain;And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?Macbeth, Act V., Sc. III.* * * * * * Infected mindsTo their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.

He took me by the wrist and held me hard;Then goes he to the length of all his arm;And with his other hand thus o’er his brow,He falls to such perusal of my face,As he would draw it. Long stay’d he so;At last,—a little shaking of mine arm,And thrice his head thus waving up and down,He raised a sigh so piteous and profound,That it did seem to shatter all his bulk,And end his being: That done, he lets me go:And, with his head o’er his shoulder turn’d,He seem’d to find his way without his eyes;For out o’ doors he went without their help,And, to the last, bended their light on me.Hamlet, Act II., Sc. I.

Alas, how is it with you,That you do bend your eye on vacancy,And with the incorporal air do hold discourse?Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep;And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm,Your bedded hair, like life in excrements,Starts up, and stands on end.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. IV.

O, what a noble mind is here o’erthrown!The courtier’s, scholar’s, soldier’s, eye, tongue, sword:The expectancy and rose of the fair state,The glass of fashion and the mould of form,The observed of all observers,—quite, quite down!And I, of ladies most deject and wretched,That suck’d the honey of his music vows,Now see that noble and most sovereign reason,Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh;That unmatch’d form and feature of blown youth,Blasted with ecstasy.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. I.

There’s something in his soul,O’er which his melancholy sits on brood;And I do doubt the hatch and the disclose,Will be some danger.Hamlet, Act III., Sc. I.

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseas’d;Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow;Raze out the written troubles of the brain;And, with some sweet oblivious antidote,Cleanse the stuff’d bosom of that perilous stuffWhich weighs upon the heart?Macbeth, Act V., Sc. III.

* * * * * * Infected mindsTo their deaf pillows will discharge their secrets.

Remove from her the means of all annoyance,And still keep eyes upon her.Macbeth, Act V., Sc. I.Infirmity doth still neglect all office,Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,When nature, being oppress’d, commands the mindTo suffer with the body: I’ll forbear;And am fall’n out with my more headier will,To take the indispos’d and sickly fitFor the sound man.King Lear, Act II., Sc. IV.This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy, sprungFrom change of fortune.Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends,drove him into this melancholy.Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.Tell him * * * * * ** * * that his lady mourns at his disease:Persuade him that he hath been a lunatic.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. I.* * * Being lunaticHe rush’d into my house, and took perforceMy ring away.Comedy of Errors, Act IV., Sc. III.These dangerous unsafe lunes.Winter’s Tale, Act II., Sc. II.With great imagination,Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,And, winking, leap’d into destruction.Henry IV—2d, Act. I., Sc. III.Oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.Venus and Adonis.To see his nobleness!Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply;Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself;Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,And downright languish’d.Winter’s Tale, Act II., Sc. III.His siege is nowAgainst the mind, the which he pricks and woundsWith many legions of strange fantasies,Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,Confound themselves.King John, Act V., Sc. VII.

Remove from her the means of all annoyance,And still keep eyes upon her.Macbeth, Act V., Sc. I.

Infirmity doth still neglect all office,Whereto our health is bound; we are not ourselves,When nature, being oppress’d, commands the mindTo suffer with the body: I’ll forbear;And am fall’n out with my more headier will,To take the indispos’d and sickly fitFor the sound man.King Lear, Act II., Sc. IV.

This is in thee a nature but infected;A poor unmanly melancholy, sprungFrom change of fortune.Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.

The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends,drove him into this melancholy.Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.

Tell him * * * * * ** * * that his lady mourns at his disease:Persuade him that he hath been a lunatic.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. I.

* * * Being lunaticHe rush’d into my house, and took perforceMy ring away.Comedy of Errors, Act IV., Sc. III.

These dangerous unsafe lunes.Winter’s Tale, Act II., Sc. II.

With great imagination,Proper to madmen, led his powers to death,And, winking, leap’d into destruction.Henry IV—2d, Act. I., Sc. III.

Oft the eye mistakes, the brain being troubled.Venus and Adonis.

To see his nobleness!Conceiving the dishonour of his mother,He straight declin’d, droop’d, took it deeply;Fasten’d and fix’d the shame on’t in himself;Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep,And downright languish’d.Winter’s Tale, Act II., Sc. III.

His siege is nowAgainst the mind, the which he pricks and woundsWith many legions of strange fantasies,Which, in their throng and press to that last hold,Confound themselves.King John, Act V., Sc. VII.

Shakespeare certainly had the true idea of the great value of sleep, and he also knew of its importance in the treatment of brain diseases. Sleep serves as an excellent stimulant, promoting the growth of the brain. The infant, during the first ten weeks of its life, sleeps most of the time and hence during that period its brain is overdeveloped in proportion to its size.

Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,Are many simples operative, whose powerWill close the eye of anguish.King Lear, Act IV., Sc. IV.O sleep, gentle sleep,Nature’s soft nurse,King Henry IV—2d, Act III., Sc. I.Sleep, that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,Chief nourisher of life’s feast.Macbeth, Act II., Sc. I.Oppressed nature sleeps:—This rest might yet have balm’d thy broken senses,Which, if convenient will not allow,Stand in hard cure.King Lear, Act III., Sc. VI.Man’s rich restorative; his balmy bath,That supplies, lubricates and keeps in playThe various movements of that nice machine,Which asks such frequent periods of repair.Young’s Night Thoughts.

Our foster-nurse of nature is repose,The which he lacks; that to provoke in him,Are many simples operative, whose powerWill close the eye of anguish.King Lear, Act IV., Sc. IV.

O sleep, gentle sleep,Nature’s soft nurse,King Henry IV—2d, Act III., Sc. I.

Sleep, that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,Chief nourisher of life’s feast.Macbeth, Act II., Sc. I.

Oppressed nature sleeps:—This rest might yet have balm’d thy broken senses,Which, if convenient will not allow,Stand in hard cure.King Lear, Act III., Sc. VI.

Man’s rich restorative; his balmy bath,That supplies, lubricates and keeps in playThe various movements of that nice machine,Which asks such frequent periods of repair.Young’s Night Thoughts.

Music was held as one of the remedies in the treatment of insanity. It plays an important part in King Lear, (IV-VII), and finds mention as a remedy in other plays.

This music mads me, let it sound no more;For, though it have holp madmen to their wits,In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Richard II., Act V., Sc. V.Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;Unless some dull and favourable handWill whisper music to my weary spirit.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. IV.Your honour’s players, hearing your amendment,Are come to play a pleasant comedy,For so your doctors hold it very meet.Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy;Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. II.Your physicians have expressly charg’d,In peril to incur your former malady,That I should yet absent me from your bed.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. II.This closing with him fits his lunacy:Whate’er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches.Titus Andronicus, Act V., Sc. II.Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.Richard III., Act I., Sc. III.* * Deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.As You Like It, Act III., Sc. II.Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d,Kept in a dark house?Twelfth Night, Act V., Sc. I.It is the mynde that makes good or ill,That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore.Spenser—Færie Queene, XI-IX.Yet they do actSuch antics and such pretty lunaciesThat spite of sorrow they make you smile.Dekker.Grows lunatic and childish for his son.Kyd.When slow Disease, and all her host of pains,Chills the warm tide which flows along the veins;When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,And flies with every changing gale of Spring:Not to the aching frame alone confined,Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind.Byron—Childish Recollections.

This music mads me, let it sound no more;For, though it have holp madmen to their wits,In me it seems it will make wise men mad.Richard II., Act V., Sc. V.

Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends;Unless some dull and favourable handWill whisper music to my weary spirit.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. IV.

Your honour’s players, hearing your amendment,Are come to play a pleasant comedy,For so your doctors hold it very meet.Seeing too much sadness hath congeal’d your blood,And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy;Therefore, they thought it good you hear a play,And frame your mind to mirth and merriment,Which bars a thousand harms, and lengthens life.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. II.

Your physicians have expressly charg’d,In peril to incur your former malady,That I should yet absent me from your bed.Taming of the Shrew, Ind., Sc. II.

This closing with him fits his lunacy:Whate’er I forge to feed his brain-sick fits,Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches.Titus Andronicus, Act V., Sc. II.

Dispute not with her, she is lunatic.Richard III., Act I., Sc. III.

* * Deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do.As You Like It, Act III., Sc. II.

Why have you suffer’d me to be imprison’d,Kept in a dark house?Twelfth Night, Act V., Sc. I.

It is the mynde that makes good or ill,That maketh wretch or happie, rich or poore.Spenser—Færie Queene, XI-IX.

Yet they do actSuch antics and such pretty lunaciesThat spite of sorrow they make you smile.Dekker.

Grows lunatic and childish for his son.Kyd.

When slow Disease, and all her host of pains,Chills the warm tide which flows along the veins;When Health, affrighted, spreads her rosy wing,And flies with every changing gale of Spring:Not to the aching frame alone confined,Unyielding pangs assail the drooping mind.Byron—Childish Recollections.

The accuracy with which Shakespeare has written of apoplexy is justly alluded to in Bell’sPrinciples of Surgery, (1815, Vol. II, p. 557): “My readers will smile, perhaps, to see me quoting Shakespeare among physicians and theologists; but not one of all their tribe, populous though it be, could describe so exquisitely the marks of apoplexy, conspiring with the struggles for life, and the agonies of suffocation, to deform the countenance of the dead: so curiously does our poet present to our conception all the signs from which it might be inferred that the good duke Humfrey had died a violent death.”

See, how the blood is settled in his face!Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless,Being all descended to the labouring heart;Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,Attracts the same for aidance ’gainst the enemy;Which with the heart there cools, and ne’er returnethTo blush and beautify the cheek again.But see, his face is black and full of blood;His eye-balls further out than when he liv’d,Staring full ghastly like a strangled man:His hair uprear’d, his nostrils stretch’d with struggling;His hands abroad display’d, as one that grasp’dAnd tugg’d for life, and was by strength subdu’d.Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking;His well-proportion’d beard made rough and rugged,Like to the summer’s corn by tempest lodg’d.It can not be but he was murder’d here;The least of all these signs were probable.Henry VI—2d, Act III., Sc. II.Suddenly a grievous sickness took him,That made him gasp, and stare, and catch the air.Henry VI—2d, Act III., Sc. II.Falstaff.And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen intothis same whoreson apoplexy.Ch. Just.Well, heaven mend him! I pray let me speak with you.Falstaff.This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,an’t to please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the blood,a whoreson tingling.Ch. Just.What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.Falstaff.It hath its original from much grief; from studyand perturbation of the brain.Henry IV—2d, Act I., Sc. IIWar.Be patient, princes; you do know, these fitsAre with his highness very ordinary.Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.Clar.No, no; he can not long hold out these pangs:The incessant care and labour of his mindHath wrought the mure, that should confine it in,So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.

Suddenly a grievous sickness took him,That made him gasp, and stare, and catch the air.Henry VI—2d, Act III., Sc. II.

Falstaff.And I hear moreover, his highness is fallen intothis same whoreson apoplexy.Ch. Just.Well, heaven mend him! I pray let me speak with you.Falstaff.This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind of lethargy,an’t to please your lordship; a kind of sleeping in the blood,a whoreson tingling.Ch. Just.What tell you me of it? Be it as it is.Falstaff.It hath its original from much grief; from studyand perturbation of the brain.Henry IV—2d, Act I., Sc. II

War.Be patient, princes; you do know, these fitsAre with his highness very ordinary.Stand from him, give him air; he’ll straight be well.Clar.No, no; he can not long hold out these pangs:The incessant care and labour of his mindHath wrought the mure, that should confine it in,So thin, that life looks through, and will break out.

P. Humph.This apoplexy will certain be his end.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. IV.Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible.Coriolanus, Act IV., Sc. V.Dick.Why dost thou quiver, man?Say.The palsy and not fear provokes me.Cade.Nay, he nods at us, as who should say,I’ll be even with you.Henry VI—2d, Act IV., Sc. VII.With a palsy-fumbling on his gorget,Shake in and out the rivet.Troilus and Cressida, Act I., Sc. III.How quickly should this arm of mine,Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee.Richard II, Act II., Sc. III.Flat on the ground and still as any stone,A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath.Sackville.

P. Humph.This apoplexy will certain be his end.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. IV.

Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy; mulled, deaf, sleepy, insensible.Coriolanus, Act IV., Sc. V.

Dick.Why dost thou quiver, man?Say.The palsy and not fear provokes me.Cade.Nay, he nods at us, as who should say,I’ll be even with you.Henry VI—2d, Act IV., Sc. VII.

With a palsy-fumbling on his gorget,Shake in and out the rivet.Troilus and Cressida, Act I., Sc. III.

How quickly should this arm of mine,Now prisoner to the palsy, chastise thee.Richard II, Act II., Sc. III.

Flat on the ground and still as any stone,A very corpse, save yielding forth a breath.Sackville.

How concisely he describes epilepsy, giving the most prominent symptoms.

Casca.He fell down in the market-place, and foamed atmouth, and was speechless.Bru.’Tis very like,—he has the falling sickness.Casca.* * * * * When he came to himself again, he said,If he had done or said anything amiss, he desired theirworships to think it was his infirmity.Julius Cæsar, Act I., Sc. II.

Julius Cæsar was the only epileptic among his characters: Othello is spoken of as being one, but this is merely Iago’s lie to Cassio, which is clearly shown in Othello’s conversation after the trance, it being a continuation of the former subject, which is never the case in epilepsy.

Iago.My lord is fall’n into an epilepsy:This is his second fit; he had one yesterday.Cas.Rub him about the temples.Iago.No, forbear;The lethargy must have his quiet course;If not, he foams at mouth, and by and byBreaks out to savage madness.Act IV., Sc. I.A plague upon your epileptic visage!King Lear, Act. II., Sc. II.

A plague upon your epileptic visage!King Lear, Act. II., Sc. II.

He takes some notice of the other affections classed under nervous diseases.

Which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?Measure for Measure, Act I., Sc. II.Thou cold sciatica,Cripple our Senators, that their limbs may haltAs lamely as their manners!Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. I.Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.Romeo and Juliet, Act II., Sc. V.When your head did but acheI knit my handkerchief about your brows.King John, Act IV., Sc. I.Oth.I have a pain upon my forehead here.Des.Why, that’s with watching; ’t will away again.Othello, Act III., Sc. II.Let our finger ache, and it induesOur other healthful members even to a senseOf pain.Othello, Act III., Sc. IV.Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero hadturned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for goodyouth he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and beingtaken with the cramp, was drowned.As You Like It, Act IV., Sc. I.The aged man that coffers-up his goldIs plagu’d with cramps, and gouts and painful fits.Lucrece.* * * Shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps.Tempest, Act IV., Sc. I.To-night thou shalt have cramps,Side stitches that shall pen thy breath up.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.I’ll rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.Thy nerves are in their infancy againAnd have no vigour in them.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.

Which of your hips has the most profound sciatica?Measure for Measure, Act I., Sc. II.

Thou cold sciatica,Cripple our Senators, that their limbs may haltAs lamely as their manners!Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. I.

Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.Romeo and Juliet, Act II., Sc. V.

When your head did but acheI knit my handkerchief about your brows.King John, Act IV., Sc. I.

Oth.I have a pain upon my forehead here.Des.Why, that’s with watching; ’t will away again.Othello, Act III., Sc. II.

Let our finger ache, and it induesOur other healthful members even to a senseOf pain.Othello, Act III., Sc. IV.

Leander, he would have lived many a fair year, though Hero hadturned nun, if it had not been for a hot midsummer night; for goodyouth he went but forth to wash him in the Hellespont, and beingtaken with the cramp, was drowned.As You Like It, Act IV., Sc. I.

The aged man that coffers-up his goldIs plagu’d with cramps, and gouts and painful fits.Lucrece.

* * * Shorten up their sinewsWith aged cramps.Tempest, Act IV., Sc. I.

To-night thou shalt have cramps,Side stitches that shall pen thy breath up.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.

I’ll rack thee with old cramps,Fill all thy bones with aches.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.

Thy nerves are in their infancy againAnd have no vigour in them.Tempest, Act I., Sc. II.

Hysteria, in Shakespeare’s time, was considered a disease common to both sexes, and was known as “Hysterica passio,” or more popularly termed “the mother.”

O, how this mother swells up toward my heart!Hysterica passio—down, thou climbing sorrow,Thy element ’s below! Where is this daughter?King Lear, Act II., Sc. IV.

Percy thinks that Shakespeare read of this disease in Harsnet’s “Declaration of Popish Impostures” while he was looking up material for his character of Tom of Bedlam. The following is taken from (p. 25) the work referred to: “Ma: Maynie had a spice of theHysterica passioas seems from his youth, hee himself termes it theMoother, and saith that hee was much troubled with it in Fraunce, and that it was one of the causes that mooved him to leave his holy order whereinto he was initiated and to returne into England.”

Diseases of the nervous system have not been overlooked by other writers. How excellently we have described the chief symptom oflocomotor ataxia:

Obliquely waddling to the mark in view.Pope.

And Byron well portrays vertigo.

Her cheek turn’d ashes, ears rung, brain whirl’d round,As if she had received a sudden blow,And the hearts dew of pain sprang fast and chillyO’er her fair front, like morning’s on a lily.Although she was not of the fainting sort,Baba thought she would faint, but there he err’d—It was but a convulsion, which, though short,Can never be described; we all have heard,And some of us have felt thus “all amort,”When things beyond the common have occurr’d.Don Juan, Canto VI., Verse CV.That old vertigo in his headWill never leave him, till he’s dead.Swift.Of all mad creatures, if the learned are right,It is the slaver kills and not the bite.Pope.Loss!—such a palaver,I’d inoculate sooner my wife with the slaverOf a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours* * * * * *Byron—The Blues.The sot,Hath got blue devils for his morning mirrors:What though on Lethe’s stream he seem to float,He can not sink his tremors or his terrors;The ruby glass that shakes within his hand,Leaves a sad sediment of Time’s worst sand.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XV., Verse IV.

That old vertigo in his headWill never leave him, till he’s dead.Swift.

Of all mad creatures, if the learned are right,It is the slaver kills and not the bite.Pope.

Loss!—such a palaver,I’d inoculate sooner my wife with the slaverOf a dog when gone rabid, than listen two hours* * * * * *Byron—The Blues.

The sot,Hath got blue devils for his morning mirrors:What though on Lethe’s stream he seem to float,He can not sink his tremors or his terrors;The ruby glass that shakes within his hand,Leaves a sad sediment of Time’s worst sand.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XV., Verse IV.

Taking up diseases of the circulatory system next we find Shakespeare displaying considerable knowledge in regard to them. The extended impulse of the heart under intense excitement is nicely shown in the Rape of Lucrece.

His hand, that yet remains upon her breast,—Rude ram, to batter such an ivory wall!May feel her heart,—(poor citizen!) distress’d.Wounding itself to death, rise up and fall,Beating her bulk, that his hand shakes withal.

Again,

I fear’d thy fortune, and my joints did tremble.

My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.Venus and Adonis.I havetremor cordison me,—my heart dances.Winter’s Tale, Act I., Sc. II.Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,Against the use of nature?Macbeth, Act I., Sc. III.

My boding heart pants, beats, and takes no rest,But, like an earthquake, shakes thee on my breast.Venus and Adonis.

I havetremor cordison me,—my heart dances.Winter’s Tale, Act I., Sc. II.

Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair,And make my seated heart knock at my ribs,Against the use of nature?Macbeth, Act I., Sc. III.

Death from “broken heart,” caused by excessive grief, finds mention in several plays.

Woe the while!O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,Break too!Winter’s Tale, Act III., Sc. II.The grief that does not speak,Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.Macbeth, Act IV., Sc. III.Shall split thy very heart with sorrow.Richard III., Act I., Sc. III.

Woe the while!O, cut my lace; lest my heart, cracking it,Break too!Winter’s Tale, Act III., Sc. II.

The grief that does not speak,Whispers the o’er-fraught heart, and bids it break.Macbeth, Act IV., Sc. III.

Shall split thy very heart with sorrow.Richard III., Act I., Sc. III.

Dyer in his “Folk-Lore of Shakespeare” quotes the following from Mr. Timb’s “Mysteries of Life, Death, and Futurity,” (1861, p. 149.) “This affection (broken heart) was, it is believed, first described by Harvey; but since his day several cases have been observed. Morgagni has recorded a few examples: among them, that of George II., who died in 1760; and, what is very curious, he fell a victim to the same malady. Dr. Elliotson, in his Lumleyan Lectures on Diseases of the Heart, in 1839, stated that he had only seen one instance; but in the ‘Cyclopædia of Practical Medicine’ Dr. Townsend gives a table of twenty-five cases, collected from various authors.”

A very good case of syncope is presented in Pericles. “The cases of apparent death, in which it is believed that premature interment sometimes takes place, are of this kind. Instances have occurred in which the pulse, respiration and consciousness have been absent for several days, and yet the patient has ultimately recovered. The system is in a sort of hybernation, in which vitality remains, though the vital functions are suspended. It is probable that, in such cases, a very careful auscultation might detect a slight sound in the heart.” (Dr. George B. Wood’s Practice. 1858. Vol. II., p. 211.)

Make a fire within;Fetch hither all my boxes in my closet.Death may usurp on nature many hours,And yet the fire of life kindle againThe o’erpress’d spirits. I have heardOf an Egyptian that had nine hours lien dead,Who was by good appliance recovered.* * * * * the fire and cloths—The rough and woeful music that we have,Cause it to sound, ’beseech you.The viol once more; * * ** * * I pray you, give her air;This queen will live; nature awakes; a warmthBreathes out of her: She hath not been entranc’dAbout five hours. See how she ’gins to blowInto life’s flower again!

Hush, my gentle neighbors!Lend me your hands; to the next chamber bear her.Get linen; now this matter must be looked to,For her relapse is mortal. Come, come,And Æsculapius guide us!Act III., Sc. II.Take thou this phial, being then in bed,And this distilled liquor drink thou off:When, presently, through all thy veins shall runA cold and drowsy humour, for no pulseShall keep his native progress, but surcease,No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv’st;The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fadeTo paly ashes; thy eyes’ windows fall,Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;Each part, depriv’d of supple government,Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk deathThou shalt continue two and forty hours,And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.Romeo and Juliet, Act IV., Sc. I.Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,Making both it unable for itself,And dissposessing all my other partsOf necessary fitness?So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;Come all to help him, and so stop the airBy which he should revive.Measure for Measure, Act II., Sc. IV.Many will swoon when they do look on blood.As You Like It, Act IV., Sc. III.No damsel faints when rather closely press’d,But more caressing seems when most caress’d;Superfluous hartshorn, and reviving salts,Both banish’d by the sovereign cordial “waltz.”Byron—The Waltz.

Take thou this phial, being then in bed,And this distilled liquor drink thou off:When, presently, through all thy veins shall runA cold and drowsy humour, for no pulseShall keep his native progress, but surcease,No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv’st;The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fadeTo paly ashes; thy eyes’ windows fall,Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;Each part, depriv’d of supple government,Shall, stiff, and stark, and cold, appear like death:And in this borrow’d likeness of shrunk deathThou shalt continue two and forty hours,And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.Romeo and Juliet, Act IV., Sc. I.

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart,Making both it unable for itself,And dissposessing all my other partsOf necessary fitness?So play the foolish throngs with one that swoons;Come all to help him, and so stop the airBy which he should revive.Measure for Measure, Act II., Sc. IV.

Many will swoon when they do look on blood.As You Like It, Act IV., Sc. III.

No damsel faints when rather closely press’d,But more caressing seems when most caress’d;Superfluous hartshorn, and reviving salts,Both banish’d by the sovereign cordial “waltz.”Byron—The Waltz.

Some attention has been paid to chlorosis:

Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage,You tallow-face!Romeo and Juliet, Act III., Sc. V.Pand.The pox upon her green sickness for me.Bawd.Faith, there’s no way to be rid on ’t, but by theway to the pox.Pericles, Act IV., Sc. VI.There’s never any of these demure boys come to any proof; forthin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making manyfish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green sickness;they are generally fools and cowards.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. III.Lepidus,Since Pompey’s feast, as Menas says, is troubledWith the green sickness.Antony and Cleopatra, Act III., Sc. II.

Out, you green-sickness carrion! Out, you baggage,You tallow-face!Romeo and Juliet, Act III., Sc. V.

Pand.The pox upon her green sickness for me.Bawd.Faith, there’s no way to be rid on ’t, but by theway to the pox.Pericles, Act IV., Sc. VI.

There’s never any of these demure boys come to any proof; forthin drink doth so overcool their blood, and making manyfish-meals, that they fall into a kind of male green sickness;they are generally fools and cowards.Henry IV—2d, Act IV., Sc. III.

Lepidus,Since Pompey’s feast, as Menas says, is troubledWith the green sickness.Antony and Cleopatra, Act III., Sc. II.

Ben Jonson in writing of this disease has happily and properly recommended marriage as an important step toward recovery.

He would keep you * * * not alone without a husband,But with a sickness; ay, and the green sickness,The maiden’s malady; which is a sickness,—A kind of a disease, * * * * *And like the fish our mariners callremora.

I say remora,For it will stay a ship that’s under sail;And stays are long and tedious things to maids!And maids are young ships that would be sailingWhen they be rigg’d. * * * * *The stay is dangerous.

I can assure you from the doctor’s mouth,She has a dropsy, and must change the airBefore she can recover.

Give her vent.If she do swell. A gimblet must be had;It is a tympanites she is troubled with.There are three kinds: the first is anasarca,Under the flesh a tumor; that’s not hers.The second is ascites, or aquosus,A watery humour; that is not hers neither;But tympanites, which we call the drum.A wind-bombs in her belly, must be unbraced,And with a faucet or a peg, let out,And she’ll do well: get her a husband.Magnetic Lady, Act II., Sc. I.My nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last.Merchant of Venice, Act II., Sc. V.

My nose fell a-bleeding on Black-Monday last.Merchant of Venice, Act II., Sc. V.

Diseases of the respiratory system were quite overlooked by Shakespeare.

Consumption catch thee!Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.There’s hell, there’s darkness, there is the sulphurouspit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption!King Lear, Act IV., Sc. VI.Thy food is suchAs has been belch’d on by infected lungs.Pericles, Act IV., Sc. VI.But I’m relapsing into metaphysics,That labyrinth, whose clue is of the sameConstruction as your cures for hectic phthisics,Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XII., Verse LXXII.Love is riotous, but marriage should have quiet,And, being consumptive, live on a milk diet.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XV., Verse XLI.For goodness, growing to a plurisy,Dies in his own too-much.Hamlet, Act IV., Sc. VII.A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught withringing in the king’s affairs, upon his coronation day.Henry IV—2d, Act III., Sc. II.’Tis dangerous to take a cold.Henry IV., Act II., Sc. III.The tailor cries, and falls into a cough.Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II., Sc. I.Coughs will come when sighs depart.Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse VIII.Who, * * * but would much ratherSigh like his son, than cough like his grandfather?Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse VI.

Consumption catch thee!Timon of Athens, Act IV., Sc. III.

There’s hell, there’s darkness, there is the sulphurouspit, burning, scalding, stench, consumption!King Lear, Act IV., Sc. VI.

Thy food is suchAs has been belch’d on by infected lungs.Pericles, Act IV., Sc. VI.

But I’m relapsing into metaphysics,That labyrinth, whose clue is of the sameConstruction as your cures for hectic phthisics,Those bright moths fluttering round a dying flame.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XII., Verse LXXII.

Love is riotous, but marriage should have quiet,And, being consumptive, live on a milk diet.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XV., Verse XLI.

For goodness, growing to a plurisy,Dies in his own too-much.Hamlet, Act IV., Sc. VII.

A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; which I caught withringing in the king’s affairs, upon his coronation day.Henry IV—2d, Act III., Sc. II.

’Tis dangerous to take a cold.Henry IV., Act II., Sc. III.

The tailor cries, and falls into a cough.Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II., Sc. I.

Coughs will come when sighs depart.Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse VIII.

Who, * * * but would much ratherSigh like his son, than cough like his grandfather?Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse VI.

He has not forgotten the diseases affecting the digestive organs.

An old superstition regarding toothache was that it was caused by a small worm, formed like an eel, which bored a hole into the tooth, and various methods were employed to remove it. Dyer notes the fact that John of Gatisden, one of the oldest medical authorities, attributed decay of the teeth to this cause.

Don Pedro.What! sigh for the toothache?Leon.Where is but a humour or a worm?Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.He that sleeps feels not the toothache.Cymbeline, Act V., Sc. IV.Being troubled with a raging tooth,I could not sleep.Othello, Act III., Sc. III.There was never yet philosopher,That could endure the toothache patiently.Much Ado, Act V., Sc. I.She shall be buried with her face upwards;Yet this is no charm for the toothache.Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.Bene.I have the toothache.D. Pedro.Draw it.Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.Richard II., Act I., Sc. III.A surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings.Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II., Sc. II.Like a sickness, did I loath this food:But, as in health, come to my natural taste,Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. * *Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act IV., Sc. I.She gallops night by night. * *

Don Pedro.What! sigh for the toothache?Leon.Where is but a humour or a worm?Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.

He that sleeps feels not the toothache.Cymbeline, Act V., Sc. IV.

Being troubled with a raging tooth,I could not sleep.Othello, Act III., Sc. III.

There was never yet philosopher,That could endure the toothache patiently.Much Ado, Act V., Sc. I.

She shall be buried with her face upwards;Yet this is no charm for the toothache.Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.

Bene.I have the toothache.D. Pedro.Draw it.Much Ado, Act III., Sc. II.

Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.Richard II., Act I., Sc. III.

A surfeit of the sweetest thingsThe deepest loathing to the stomach brings.Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act II., Sc. II.

Like a sickness, did I loath this food:But, as in health, come to my natural taste,Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. * *Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act IV., Sc. I.

She gallops night by night. * *

O’er ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream;Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.Romeo and Juliet, Act I., Sc. IV.Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bitsMake rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act I., Sc. I.Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young;And abstinence engenders maladies.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act IV., Sc. III.Unquiet meals make ill digestions.Comedy of Errors, Act V., Sc. I.A sick man’s appetite, who desires most thatWhich would increase his evil.Coriolanus, Act I., Sc. I.Do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.Tempest, Act II., Sc. II.For, ever and anon comes indigestion.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XI., Verse III.When a roast and a ragout,And fish and soup, by some side-dishes back’d,Can give us either pain or pleasure, whoWould pique himself on intellects, whose useDepends so much upon the gastric juice?Byron—Don Juan, Canto V., Verse XXXII.He ate and he was well supplied; and sheWho watch’d him like a mother, would have fedHim past all bounds, because she smiled to see,Such appetite in one she had deem’d dead:But Zoe, being older than Haidee,Knew (by tradition, for she ne’er had read),That famish’d people must be slowly nursed,And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.Byron—Don Juan, Canto II., Verse CLVIII.Why look you pale?Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act V., Sc. II.The shepherd’s daughter * * * who began to be much seasick.Winter’s Tale, Act V., Sc. II.——the impatient wind blew half a gale:High dash’d the spray, the bows dipp’d in the sea,And seasick passengers turn’d somewhat pale.Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse LXIV.Now we’ve reached her, lo! the captain,Gallant Kidd, commands the crew;Passengers their berths are clapt in,Some to grumble, some to spew.

O’er ladies lips, who straight on kisses dream;Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are.Romeo and Juliet, Act I., Sc. IV.

Fat paunches have lean pates, and dainty bitsMake rich the ribs, but bankrupt quite the wits.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act I., Sc. I.

Say, can you fast? Your stomachs are too young;And abstinence engenders maladies.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act IV., Sc. III.

Unquiet meals make ill digestions.Comedy of Errors, Act V., Sc. I.

A sick man’s appetite, who desires most thatWhich would increase his evil.Coriolanus, Act I., Sc. I.

Do not turn me about; my stomach is not constant.Tempest, Act II., Sc. II.

For, ever and anon comes indigestion.Byron—Don Juan, Canto XI., Verse III.

When a roast and a ragout,And fish and soup, by some side-dishes back’d,Can give us either pain or pleasure, whoWould pique himself on intellects, whose useDepends so much upon the gastric juice?Byron—Don Juan, Canto V., Verse XXXII.

He ate and he was well supplied; and sheWho watch’d him like a mother, would have fedHim past all bounds, because she smiled to see,Such appetite in one she had deem’d dead:But Zoe, being older than Haidee,Knew (by tradition, for she ne’er had read),That famish’d people must be slowly nursed,And fed by spoonfuls, else they always burst.Byron—Don Juan, Canto II., Verse CLVIII.

Why look you pale?Seasick, I think, coming from Muscovy.Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act V., Sc. II.

The shepherd’s daughter * * * who began to be much seasick.Winter’s Tale, Act V., Sc. II.

——the impatient wind blew half a gale:High dash’d the spray, the bows dipp’d in the sea,And seasick passengers turn’d somewhat pale.Byron—Don Juan, Canto X., Verse LXIV.

Now we’ve reached her, lo! the captain,Gallant Kidd, commands the crew;Passengers their berths are clapt in,Some to grumble, some to spew.

“Help!”—“a couplet?”—“no, a cupOf warm water.”“What’s the matter?”“Zounds! my liver’s coming up;I shall not survive the racketOf this brutal Lisbon Packet.”Byron—Poems.Love’s a capricious power; I’ve known it holdOut through a fever caused by its own heat,But be much puzzled by a cough or cold,And find a quinsy very hard to treat;Against all noble maladies he’s bold,But vulgar illnesses don’t like to meet,Nor that a sneeze should interrupt his sigh,Nor inflammations redden his blind eye.But worst of all it’s nausea, or a painAbout the lower regions of the bowels;Love who heroically breathes a vein,Shrinks from the application of hot towels,And purgatives are dangerous to his reign,Seasickness death.Byron—Don Juan, Canto II., Verse XXII.Like wind compress’d and pent within a bladder,Or like a human colic which is sadder.Byron—Vision of Judgment.When will your constipation have done, good madame?Cartwright.

“Help!”—“a couplet?”—“no, a cupOf warm water.”“What’s the matter?”“Zounds! my liver’s coming up;I shall not survive the racketOf this brutal Lisbon Packet.”Byron—Poems.

Love’s a capricious power; I’ve known it holdOut through a fever caused by its own heat,But be much puzzled by a cough or cold,And find a quinsy very hard to treat;Against all noble maladies he’s bold,But vulgar illnesses don’t like to meet,Nor that a sneeze should interrupt his sigh,Nor inflammations redden his blind eye.But worst of all it’s nausea, or a painAbout the lower regions of the bowels;Love who heroically breathes a vein,Shrinks from the application of hot towels,And purgatives are dangerous to his reign,Seasickness death.Byron—Don Juan, Canto II., Verse XXII.

Like wind compress’d and pent within a bladder,Or like a human colic which is sadder.Byron—Vision of Judgment.

When will your constipation have done, good madame?Cartwright.

Diseases of the secretory system have not escaped his eagle eye.

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