_Lafeu._ ’Twas a good lady, ’twas a good lady. We may pick a thousand salads ere we light on such another herb.
_Clown._ Indeed, Sir, she was the Sweet Marjoram of the Salad, or rather the herb of grace.
Not all the ointments brought from Delos’ Isle, Nor that of quinces, nor of marjoram, That ever from the Isle of Coös came, Nor these, nor any else, though ne’er so rare, Could with this place for sweetest smells compare.
O, bind them posies of pleasant flowers, Of marjoram, mint and rue.
The scent of marjoram used to be very highly prized, and in some countries the plant is the symbol of honour. Dr Fernie says _Origanum_ means in Greek the “joy of the mountains,” so charming a name one wishes it could be more often used. Among[27] the Greeks, if it grew on the grave it augured the happiness of the departed; “May many flowers grow on this newly-built tomb” (is the prayer once offered); “not the dried-up Bramble, or the red flower loved by goats; but Violets and Marjoram, and the Narcissus growing in water, and around thee may all Roses grow.”
Parkinson writes it was “put in nosegays, and in the windows of houses, as also in sweete pouders, sweete bags, and sweete washing waters.... Our daintiest women doe put it to still among their sweet herbes.” Pusser mentions it among his “herbs for strewing,” and in some recipes for _pot pourri_ it is still included. _Origanum vulgare_ grows wild, and the dry leaves are made into a tea “which is extremely grateful.” The different kinds of marjoram are now chiefly used for soups and stuffings. Isaac Walton gives instructions for dressing a pike, and directs that among the accessories should be sweet marjoram, thyme, a little winter savoury and some pickled oysters!
The neighb’ring nymphs each in her turn... Some running through the meadows with them bring Cowslips and mint.
In strewing of these herbs... with bounteous hands and free, The healthful balm and mint from their full laps do fly.
Sunflowers and marigolds and mint beset us, Moths white as stitchwort that had left its stem, ... Loyal as sunflowers we will not swerve us, We’ll make the mints remembered spices serve us For autumn as in spring.
“Mint,” says De la Quintinye, “is called in French Balm,” which sounds rather confusing; but Evelyn says it is the “Curled Mint, _M. Sativa Crispa_,” that goes by this name. Mint was also called “Menthe de Notre Dame,” and in Italy, “Erba Santa Maria,” and in Germany, “Frauen Münze,” though this name is also applied to costmary. This herb used to be strewn in churches. All the various kinds of it were thought to be good against the biting of serpents, sea-scorpions, and mad dogs, but violently antagonistic to the healing processes of wounds. “They are extreme bad for wounded people, and they say a wounded man that eats Mints, his wound will never be cured, and that is a long day! But they are good to be put into Baths.”[28] The “gentler tops of Orange Mint” (_Mentha citrata_?) are recommended “mixed with a Salad or eaten alone, with the juyce of Orange and a little Sugar.”