The Anatomy of Melancholy

Spare me while I hurry there; drown me as I return.

It is their common disposition in this situation to scorn death, wish for death and face death: “For neither wild beast, fire, precipice, sea, sword nor noose seems dreadful to them.” “They desire to die,” says Tyrius.

He does not fear death; he longs to go Straight against the swords themselves.

Though a thousand dragons or devils guard the gates, though Cerberus himself, Sciron and Procrustes lie in wait, and the way is as dangerous and inaccessible as hell, through flames and over burning ploughshares, he will venture on despite it all. As Peter Abelard lost his testicles for his Heloise, so, I say, he will risk not merely an incision but life itself. How many gallants in those days offered to lose their lives for a night with Cleopatra! And at the very moment of death their only comfort is to remember their dear mistress: Zerbino, killed in France, and Brandimart in Barbary, as Arcite remembered his Emily.

When he felt death, His eyes grew dim, his breath faded; Yet still he cast his eye upon his lady. His last word was, “Mercy, Emily!” His spirit changed and passed away— Whither I cannot tell, nor where.

When Captain Gobrius received his fatal wound in an unfortunate accident, “Alas, wretched me!” he exclaimed. Instead of other devotions, he cried: “Shall I die before I see Rodanthe, my sweetheart?” “Thus love despises death,” says my author, “or anything that happens to human beings.” So love triumphs over death itself, scorns it and exults over it.

Thirteen handsome young men lost their lives for the beautiful Hippodamia, daughter of Oenomaus, king of Elis. When faced with the harsh condition of death or victory, they disregarded it and courageously died for love, until Pelops finally won her by a trick. As many gallants recklessly risked their precious lives for Atalanta, daughter of Schoeneus, in the hope of marriage. All were defeated and overcome, until Hippomenes succeeded in his suit with a few golden apples.

Perseus of old fought a sea-monster for Andromeda’s sake; and our Saint George, in a terrible combat, rescued the king of Sabea’s daughter, who had been exposed to a dragon—the Golden Legend is my source. I hope our knights-errant and the Sir Lancelots of today will risk as much for ladies’ favour as the Squire of Dames, the Knight of the Sun, Sir Bevis of Southampton, or that renowned nobleman,

Orlando, who for a long time dearly loved Fair Angelica, and for her sake Throughout the world, in nations far and near, Performed and undertook great enterprises.