“His stomach did wamble at the sight,” in a visceral reaction; In Shakespeare’s King Lear: “O, I have ta’en / Too little care of this! Take physic, pomp; / Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel... / That thou mayst shake the superflux to them, / And show the heavens more just... / Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination: there’s money for thee... / O, let me not be mad, not mad, sweet heaven! / Keep me in temper: I would not be mad!... / How do you, my lady?... / What, fifty of my followers at a clap!... / I’ll not weep... / No, you unnatural hags, / I will have such revenges on you both... / That all the world shall—I will do such things... / What they are, yet I know not: but they shall be / The terrors of the earth... / You think I’ll weep... / No, I’ll not weep... / I have full cause of weeping, but this heart / Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws / Or e’er I’ll weep... / O fool, I shall go mad!... / O, how this mother swells up toward my heart! / Hysterica passio, down, thou climbing sorrow! / Thy element’s below!... / No, no, no, no! Come, let’s away to prison... / We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage... / When thou dost ask me blessing, I’ll kneel down, / And ask of thee forgiveness... / So we’ll live, / And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh / At gilded butterflies... / And hear poor rogues talk of court news... / And we’ll talk with them too— / Who loses and who wins; who’s in, who’s out— / And take upon’s the mystery of things, / As if we were God’s spies... / And we’ll wear out, / In a walled prison, packs and sects of great ones, / That ebb and flow by the moon... / Take them away... / Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, / The gods themselves throw incense... / Have I caught thee?... / He that parts us shall bring a brand from heaven, / And fire us hence like foxes... / Wipe thine eyes... / The good-years shall devour them, flesh and fell, / Ere they shall make us weep... / We’ll see ’em starved first... / Come, I’ll to my trial... / Come, let’s away to prison... / We two alone will sing like birds i’ the cage”—though “wamble” appears in other contexts for nausea; “The thought made his soul wamble”; “Wamble not at truth’s bitterness”; “Her wamble passed with dawn”; The feast caused a wamble of regret.