Gerard Legh, author of the “Accedens of Armorie,” a book originally published in 1562, and so popular that within half a century five editions were called for, tells us that when lions are born “they sleepe continually three long Egyptian daies. Whereat the Lyonesse, making such terrible roring as the erth trembleth therewith, raiseth them by force thereof out of that deadlie sleepe, ministering foode, which of sleepe before they could not take. Aristotle writeth that in his marching he setteth foorth his right pawe first, and beareth in himselfe a princelie port. When he pursueth aunie beast he rampeth on them, for then he is in most force. In nothing so much appeareth the princelie minde of the haughtie Lyon as in this, that where other beastes do herd and rowte together the Lyon will not do so, neither will hee haue any soueraigne, such is the haughtie courage of his high stomache that he accomteth himselfe without peere; when he is sicke he healeth himselfe with the bloud of an Ape.[35] In age when his strength faileth him he becommeth enemie to man, and not before, but neuer to children. There is little marrow in his bones, for when they are smitten together fier flieth out of them as from a flint stone. Therefore in the olde time they made shields for horsemen of Lyon’s bones.” Another old writer tells us that “the lion is never sick but of loathing.” This we may presume is a kind of biliousness or sick headache, and a general disinclination for food. Whatever it may be, the Faculty are equal to the occasion, as the simple “way to cure him is to tie to him the apes, which with their wanton mocking drive him to madness, and then when he hath tasted their blood it acts as a remedy.” Legh’s remedy and this one do not quite agree, but this latter is clearly intended for the lion in a state of captivity, when his unnatural surroundings necessitate severer treatment.