The secret mazy channels of the brain.
The melancholic fiend, (that worst despair
Of physic) hence the rust-complexion’d man 180
Pursues, whose blood is dry, whose fibres gain
Too stretch’d a tone: And hence in climes adust
So sudden tumults seize the trembling nerves,
And burning fevers glow with double rage.
Fly, if you can, these violent extremes 185
Of air; the wholesome is nor moist nor dry.
But as the power of chusing is deny’d