In the Treasvrie of Avncient and Moderne Times, printed in London, the year 1619, we find the following: “_Alexander Alexandrinus_ proceedeth farther, affirming that he beheld one wounded by this Spider, to dance and leape about incessantly, and the Musitians (finding themselves wearied) gave over playing: whereupon, the poore offended dancer, hauing vtterly lost all his forces, fell downe on the ground, as if he had bene dead. The Musitians no sooner began to playe againe, but hee returned to himselfe, and mounting vp vpon his feet, danced againe as lustily as formerly hee had done, and so continued dancing still, til hee found the harme asswaged, and himselfe entirely recovered. Heereunto he addeth, that when it hath happened, that a man hath not beene thorowly cured by Musique in this manner; within some short while after, hearing the sound of Instruments, hee hath recouered footing againe, and bene enforced to hold on dancing, and never to ceasse, till his perfect and absolute healing, which (questionlesse) is admirable in nature.”[1188] Robert Boyle, in his Usefulness of Natural Philosophy, among other stories of the power of music upon those bitten by Tarantulas, mentions the following: “_Epiphanius Ferdinandus_ himself not only tells us of a man of 94 years of age, and weak, that he could not go, unless supported by his staff, who did, upon the hearing of musick after he was bitten, immediately fall a dancing and capering like a kid; and affirms that Tarantulas themselves may be brought to leap and dance at the sound of lutes, small drums, bagpipes, fiddles, etc.; but challenges those, that believe them not, to come and try, promising them an occular conviction: and adds what is very memorable and pleasant, that not only men, in whom much may be ascribed to fancy, but other animals being bitten, may likewise, by musick, be reduced to leap or dance: for he saith, he saw a Wasp, which being bitten by a Tarantula, whilst a lutanist chanced to be by; the musician, playing upon his instrument gave them the sport of seeing both the Wasp and Spider begin to dance: Annexing, that a bitten Cock did the like.”[1189] In an Italian nobleman’s palace, Skippon saw a fellow who was bitten by a Tarantula; “he danced,” says this traveler, “very antickly, with naked swords, to a tune played on an instrument.” The Italians say that if the Spider be immediately killed, no such effects will appear; but as long as it lives, the person bitten is subject to these paroxysms, and when it dies he is free. Skippon says that usually they are the poorer sort of people who say they are bitten, and they beg money while they are in these dancing fits.[1190]