death, with the intervening accidents which
escape one's memory, if they are not written in
the instant. On Sunday, the First of February
1684-5, he found himself not well,
which he did not confess, but thought it
might pass away, as doubtless many other of
his distempers had done. On Sunday night
he sent to my Lord Chamberlain to send for
his doctors to attend him the next morning
to consult about his leg, in which he
would not own a touch of the gout, but had
favoured it about three weeks, and wore a
plaster on it of his own prescription, but was
returned to some degree of walking  again. The
doctors came according to his order, and Dr.
Scarborough finding his speech falter, he ran
and told the Duke. Dr. King, who was, I think
called, though no sworn physician, perceived
it too; and he went and told my Lord
Peterborough, who advised him to return, and be
near at hand if any accident should happen.
Whilst this passed, he rose out of his bed,
and as he was deploring the death of my
Lord Allington, could not pronounce his
name, but stuttered 'All—All.' Tom Ho:
who was on his knees, buckling his garters,
turns quick, and looking him in the face, saw
it strangely altered, and asked him—'Sir,
how-d'ye-do?' He puffed, as when he is
vexed, and would not answer, but rose hastily
out of his chair, and went through two rooms
into his closet, shutting the door against Tom
Ho: who, in care would have pressed in after
him. There he stayed, some say one, some
two hours; but when Mr. H. heard him
walk, he ran to W. C. [Will Chiffinch]
and bid him go round and persuade him
out, which he did with some difficulty.
As he opened the door, H: looked again,
and seeing him much changed, he ran
to the next room and drew in Dr. K. by
the arm, not having time to speak. When
he returned, his Majesty was sunk down in
his chair, with his head to one side, and gave
the dreadfullest shriek was ever heard. In
the moment, Dr. K. stripped up the sleeve of
his waistcoat (for he was not dressed), held
the vein with his thumb, and opened a vein;
but he not bleeding, he took a bottle out of
his pocket, and dropped into his nose, then
took it by the end, and shook it so as shook
his whole head, which brought him out of his
convulsion fit, so that he bled freely eighteen
ounces. By this time Dr. Wetherly and
others were assembled, and they approved of
what was done, and applied a warming pan of
coals to his head, and applied blisters to his
back, arms, and thighs; in the meantime,
seeing him foam much at mouth, they wished
a vomit, and the noise having drawn down
James Chace, who was going to Temple Bar,
to a patient, chanced to have one of Wetherly's
prescriptions in his pocket, which otherwise
could not have been prepared under
four hours. He took it, and it brought much
phlegm off his stomach. When they opened
the blisters, they wrought admirably. He
was very sensible, and told Dr. Short that;
but now he could not speak, and asked what
ailed him. In the night, he was taken with
something like a return, between eleven and
one, but it passed easily. The next day he
talked and rallied; and the doctors forbidding
him, he said that order would have killed
Harry Killigrew, but he would obey it."

Here we must break off to call the reader's
attention to the new points about Lord
Allington and Thomas Howard (Tom
Howard was one of the Grooms of the Chamber
a—John Chase was apothecary to the
King's person), and to the King's
good-humoured allusion to Harry Killigrew. The
writer continues thus:—

"I should have told you, in his fit his feet
were cold as ice, and were kept rubbing with
hot cloths, which were difficult to get. Some
say the Queen rubbed one, and washed it in
tears. Pillows were brought from the
Duchess of Portsmouth's by Mrs. Roche.
His Highness [the Duke of York] was first
there, then I think the Queen (he sent for
her); the Duchess of Portsmouth swooned in
the chamber, and was carried out for air;
Nelly roared to a disturbance, and was led
out and lay roaring behind the door; the
Duchess wept and returned; the Princess
[afterwards Queen Anne] was not admitted,
he was so ghastly a sight (his eye-balls
turned that none of the blacks were seen,
and his mouth drawn up to one eye), so they
feared it might affect the child she goes with.
None came in at the common door, but by
an odd side-door to prevent a crowd, but
enough at convenient times to satisfy all.
The grief of the Duchess of Portsmouth did
not hinder packing and sending many strong
boxes to the French Ambassador's; and the
second day of the King's sickness, the chamber
being kept dark (you know)—one who
comes out of the light does not see very soon,
and much less one who is between them and
the light there is—so she came and went of
the inside of the bed, and sat down o't, and
taking the King's hand in hers, felt his two
great diamond rings; and, thinking herself
alone, asked him what he did with them on,
and said she would take them off, and did it
at the same time, and looking up saw the
Duke of the other side, stedfastly looking on
her, at which she blushed much, and held
them towards him and said 'Here, Sir, will
you take them?' 'No, Madam,' said he, 'they
are as safe in your hands as mine. I will not
touch them till I see how things will go.'
But since the King's death she has forgot
to restore them, for he told the story.'

Let the reader particularly observe the
picture which the writer gives us for the first
time, of Nelly's lying "roaring behind the
door" (an incident unknown to Mr.
Cunningham) and the fearful scene (new to Mr.
Macaulay), of the Duchess of Portsmouth
taking the rings from the fingers of the