ut lenirem animum scribendo_, to ease my mind by writing; for I had gravidum cor, foetum caput, a kind of imposthume in my head, which I was very desirous to be unladen of, and could imagine no fitter evacuation than this.  Besides, I might not well refrain, for ubi dolor, ibi digitus, one must needs scratch where it itches.  I was not a little offended with this malady, shall I say my mistress Melancholy, my Aegeria, or my malus genius? and for that cause, as he that is stung with a scorpion, I would expel clavum clavo, [62]comfort one sorrow with another, idleness with idleness, ut ex vipera Theriacum, make an antidote out of that which was the prime cause of my disease.  Or as he did, of whom [63]Felix Plater speaks, that thought he had some of Aristophanes’ frogs in his belly, still crying Breec, okex, coax, coax, oop, oop, and for that cause studied physic seven years, and travelled over most part of Europe to ease himself.  To do myself good I turned over such physicians as our libraries would afford, or my [64]private friends impart, and have taken this pains.  And why not?  Cardan professeth he wrote his book, De Consolatione after his son’s death, to comfort himself; so did Tully write of the same subject with like intent after his daughter’s departure, if it be his at least, or some impostor’s put out in his name, which Lipsius probably suspects.  Concerning myself, I can peradventure affirm with Marius in Sallust, [65]"that which others hear or read of, I felt and practised myself; they get their knowledge by books, I mine by melancholising.” Experto crede Roberto.  Something I can speak out of experience, aerumnabilis experientia me docuit; and with her in the poet, [66]_Haud ignara mali miseris succurrere disco_; I would help others out of a fellow-feeling; and, as that virtuous lady did of old, [67]"being a leper herself, bestow all her portion to build an hospital for lepers,” I will spend my time and knowledge, which are my greatest fortunes, for the common good of all.

Yea, but you will infer that this is [68]_actum agere_, an unnecessary work, cramben bis coctam apponnere, the same again and again in other words.  To what purpose? [69]"Nothing is omitted that may well be said,” so thought Lucian in the like theme.  How many excellent physicians have written just volumes and elaborate tracts of this subject?  No news here; that which I have is stolen, from others, [70]_Dicitque mihi mea pagina fur es_.  If that severe doom of [71]Synesius be true, “it is a greater offence to steal dead men’s labours, than their clothes,” what shall become of most writers?  I hold up my hand at the bar among others, and am guilty of felony in this kind, habes confitentem reum, I am content to be pressed with the rest.  ’Tis most true, tenet insanabile multos scribendi cacoethes, and [72]"there is no end of writing of books,” as the wiseman found of old, in this [73]scribbling