In such sort doth the torture and extremity of his misery torment him, that he can take no pleasure in his life, but is in a manner inforced to offer violence unto himself, to be freed from his present insufferable pains. So some (saith Fracastorius) in fury, but most in despair, sorrow, fear, and out of the anguish and vexation of their souls, offer violence to themselves: for their life is unhappy and miserable. They can take no rest in the night, nor sleep, or if they do slumber, fearfull dreams astonish them.

In the day time they are afrighted still by some terrible object, and torn in pieces with suspicion, fear, sorrow, discontents, cares, shame, anguish, &c. as so many wild horses, that they cannot be quiet an hour, a minute of time, but even against their wills they are intent, and still thinking of it, they cannot forget it, it grindes their souls day and night, they are perpetually tormented, a burden to themselves, as Job was, they can neither eat, drink or sleep. Psal. 107. 18. Their soul abhorreth all meat, and they are brought to deaths door, being bound in misery and iron: they curse their stars with Job, and day of their birth, and wish for death: for as Pineda and most interpreters hold, Job was even melancholy to despair, and almost madnesse it self;

they murmur many times against the world, frinds, allies, all mankinde, even against God himself in the bitternesse of their passion, vivere nolunt, mori nesciunt, live they will not, die they cannot. And in the midst of these squalid, ugly, and such irksome days, they seek at last, finding no comfort, no remedy in this wretched life, to be eased of all by death. Omnia appetunt bonum, All creatures seek the best, and for their good as they hope, sub specie in shew at least, vel quia mori pulchrum putant (saith Hippocrates) vel quia putant inde se majoribus malis liberari, to be freed as they wish.

Though many times as Æsops fishes, they leap from the frying-pan into the fire it self, yet they hope to be eased by his meanes; and therefore (saith Felix Platerus) after many tedious dayes at last, either by drowning, hanging, or some such fearfull end, they precipitate, or make away themselves: many lamentable examples are dayly seen amongst us: alius ante fores se laqueo suspendit, (as Seneca notes) alius se præcipitavit à tecto, ne dominum stomachantem audiret, alius ne reduceretur à fuga ferrum redegit in viscera, so many causes there are — His amor exitio est, furor his — love, grief, anger, madness, and shame, &c.

’Tis a common calamity, a fatall end to this disease, they are condemned to a violent death, by a jury of Physicians, furiously disposed, carried headlong by their tyrannizing wils, inforced by miseries, & there remains no more to such persons, if that heavenly Physician, by his assisting grace and mercy alone do not prevent, (for no humane perswasion, or art can help,) but to be their own butchers, and execute themselves. Socrates his cicuta, Lucretia’s dagger, Timons halter are yet to be had; Cato’s knife, and Nero’s sword are left behinde them, as so many fatall engines, bequeathed to posterity, and will be used to the worlds end, by such distressed souls:

so intolerable, unsufferable, grievous and violent is their pain, so unspeakable, and continuate. One day of grief is an hundred years, as Cardan observes: ’Tis carnificina hominum, angor animi, as well saith Areteus, a plague of the soul, the cramp and convulsion of the soul, an Epitome of hell; and if there be an hell upon earth, it is to be found in a melancholy mans heart.

For that deep torture may be call’d an hell, When more is felt, then one hath power to tell.

Yea, that which scoffing Lucian said of the Gout in jest, I may truly affirm of melancholy in earnest.

O triste nomen! o diis odibile Melancholia lacrymosa, Cocyti filia, Tu Tartari specubus opacis edita Erinnys, utero quam Mægera suo tulit, Et ab uberibus aluit, cuique parvulæ Amarulentum in os lac Alecto dedit, Omnes abominabilem te dæmones Produxere in lucem, exitio mortalium.

Et paulo post.

Non Jupiter erit tale telum fulminis, Non ulla sic procella sævit æquoris, Non impetuosi tanta vis est turbinis. An asperos sustineo morsus Cerberi? Num virus Echidnæ membra mea depascitur? Aut tunica sanie tincta Nessi sanguinis? Illacrymabile & immedicabile malum hoc.

O sad and odious name! a name so fell, Is this of melancholy, brat of hell. There born in hellish darkness doth it dwel, The Furies brought it up, Megera’s teat, Alecto gave it bitter milk to eat. And all conspir’d a bane to mortall men, To bring this devil out of that black den. Jupiters thunderbolt, no storm at sea, Nor whirl-winde doth our hearts so much dismay: What? am I bit by that fierce Cerberus? Or stung by serpent so pestiferous? Or put on shirt that’s dipt in Nessus bloud? My pain’s past cure; Physick can do no good.

No torture of body like unto it, Siculi non invenere tyranni Majus tormentum, no strappado’s, hot irons, Phalaris bulls,

Nec ira deum tantum, nec tela, nec hostis, Quantum sola noces animis illapsa,

Joves wrath, nor devils can Do so much harm to th’ Soul of man.

All fears, griefs, suspicions, discontents, imbonities, insuavities are swallowed up, and drowned in this Euripus, this Irish sea, this Ocean of misery, as so many small brooks; ’tis coagulum omnium ærumnarum: which Ammianus applied to his distressed Palladius. I say of our Melancholy man, he is the cream of humane adversity, the quintessence, and upshot; all other diseases whatsoever, are but flea-bitings to melancholy in extent: ’Tis the pith of them all,

Hospitium est calamitatis; quid verbis opus est? Quamcunque malam rem quæris, illic reperies:

What need more words? ’tis calamities Inn. Where seek for any mischief, ’tis within;