“They would produce no effect on me,” replied Bottesham.  “I am long past such feelings.  But in regard to yourself.  You say you are afraid of the plague.  I will give you an electuary to drive away the panic;” and he produced a small jar, and handed it to the porter.  “It is composed of conserve of roses, gillyflowers, borage, candied citron, powder of laetificans Galeni, Roman zedoary, doronicum, and saffron.  You must take about the quantity of a large nutmeg, morning and evening.”

“You make me for ever your debtor, learned sir,” rejoined Blaize.  “What a charming mixture!”

“I will also add my remedy,” said Furbisher.  “It is a powder compounded of crabs’ eyes, burnt hartshorn, the black tops of crabs’ claws, the bone from a stag’s heart, unicorn’s horn, and salt of vipers.  You must take one or two drams—­not more—­in a glass of hot posset-drink, when you go to bed, and swallow another draught of the same potion to wash it down.”

“I will carefully observe your directions,” replied Blaize, thankfully receiving the powder.

“Of all things,” said Bottesham, claiming the porter’s attention by tapping him on the head with his cane, “take care never to be without vinegar.  It is the grand specific, not merely against the plague, but against all disorders.  It is food and physic, meat and medicine, drink and julep, cordial and antidote.  If you formerly took it as a sauce, now take it as a remedy.  To the sound it is a preservative from sickness, to the sick, a restorative to health.  It is like the sword which is worn not merely for ornament, but for defence.  Vinegar is my remedy against the plague.  It is a simple remedy, but an effectual one.  I have cured a thousand patients with it, and hope to cure a thousand more.  Take vinegar with all you eat, and flavour all you drink with it.  Has the plague taken away your appetite, vinegar will renew it.  Is your throat ulcerated, use vinegar as a gargle.  Are you disturbed with phlegmatic humours, vinegar will remove them.  Is your brain laden with vapours, throw vinegar on a hot shovel, and inhale its fumes, and you will obtain instantaneous relief.  Have you the headache, wet a napkin in vinegar, and apply it to your temples, and the pain will cease.  In short, there is no ailment that vinegar will not cure.  It is the grand panacea; and may be termed the elixir of long life.”

“I wonder its virtues have not been found out before,” observed Blaize, innocently.

“It is surprising how slow men are in discovering the most obvious truths,” replied Bottesham.  “But take my advice, and never be without it.”

“I never will,” returned Blaize.  “Heaven be praised, my master has just ordered in three tuns.  I’ll tap one of them directly.”

“That idea of the vinegar remedy is borrowed from Kemp’s late treatise on the pestilence and its cure,” muttered Furbisher.  “Before you enter upon the new system, young man,” he added aloud to Blaize, “let me recommend you to fortify your stomach with a glass of canary.”