early modern anglia is for lovers

So, I think my next-door neighbour is in the middle of a beautiful coming-out narrative, wherein coming to university in a big cosmopolitan city allowed him to meet the love of his life and discover the joys of his burgeoning homosexual identity. It's pretty beautiful. Except for right now, when it's horrible. The walls in this place are really thin and him and his Italian stallion/"friend" are mere feet away from me giggling like the keynote speakers at the 2011 Man Giggles Symposium and TickleFight Expo. While I feel a bit weird interloping unwillingly on their hairy tryst—seriously, they're both real hairy dudes—it's mostly just making me heartsick.

These guys know what I'm talking about.

Now, to deal with problems in life you're supposed to use what you know, right? This is what I try to do. Having spent the past five years of my life mostly reading early modern poetry and drama, this means I solve A LOT of my problems by dressing up like a boy and trying to pun them away, and also via that potion you can get from any priest that makes you look like you're dead, when really you are just INCREDIBLY asleep. Regardless, I've never taken the advice of witches, or been duped by a bed-trick (exactly what it sounds like, just the very normal Elizabethan practice of turning the lights off and forcing your maid into bed with your new husband so he would think you were a virgin, whatever) so I guess I'm doing okay.

Being lovesick was considered an actual physical illness in the early modern period, like having the flu or being insane (also considered a physical thing—there was no twitter so it was harder to diagnose back then).So what does Renaissance medicine have to say about the longings of the heart?

... If you read that last question and are legitimately interested, I guess keep reading this, and if you're my mom (the only other option) please be warned, shit gets REAL.

Jacques Ferrand's 1623 treatise on lovesickness describes its symptoms thus:

• a pale and wan complexion
• a slow fever
• palpitations of the heart
• swelling of the face
• decreased appetite/insatiable hunger/raging thirst
• sighing, headaches, melancholy
• causeless tears, fainting, and other oppressions
• insomnia
• epilepsy
• madness
• uterine fury (a personal favourite)
• "satyriasis", defined as "an itching or tickling of the private parts"

He also adds, optimistically, that "for the most part, these symptoms are without mitigation or cure." Except for the glimmer of hope provided by sweet, beautiful reconciliation after time apart or a nice love letter, right?

Just kidding, have sex with a prostitute or a nearby widow! Immediately!

That is Jacques Ferrand's advice. Truly, this was the age of ROMANCE. He mentions that the ideal is to have sex with the actual object of your desire, but if they're not around, feel free to find a prostitute, slave, or widow. And as soon as possible, satyriasis is no joke*.

Also, I'm pretty sure he was a doctor. I guess in the age of barber-dentists it's possible that he was a doctor-pimp and this counts as a particularly egregious example of vertical integration, but whatever the reason, this is barf. He does list one other option, but it's too gross even for the internet** (and the internet is a GROSS place) so we're just going to pretend it's not a thing.

I'm really at a loss here. For starters, my uterus is FURIOUS. I think probably the safest bet is to consult a ghost or do a spell of some kind? Maybe someone has a really good riddle I can administer to people until I just marry the first man who gets it right. The course of true love and all that.

*Don't be stupid, Jacques Ferrand, boners are hilarious.
**AN OLD LADY IS SUPPOSED TO SHOVE A RAG DIPPED IN MENSTRUAL BLOOD IN YOUR FACE I GUESS SO THAT YOU ARE SO GROSSED OUT YOU NEVER HAVE A SEXY THOUGHT EVER AGAIN IN YOUR LIFE? EVER AGAIN EVER?! LOVESICKNESS SOLVED NOW YOU HATE EVERYTHING?? I TOLD YOU IT WAS GROSS.