The Anatomy of Melancholy

And when you see my heart turn towards pleasure, Your tongue, wit, and blood warmed by good food and wine, Let no chance of sweet sport pass you by, But be as frisky and playful as an ape.

The ancient Greeks had their Lubentia, goddess of pleasure; and the Spartans, taught by Lycurgus, “sacrificed to the god of Laughter,” especially after their wars and in peacetime. The same custom existed in Thessaly, as appears from Apuleius, who was himself made the means of their amusement: laughter and merriment were to season their labour and their otherwise sober life. “For laughter is the everlasting pleasure of gods and human beings.”

Princes employ jesters and actors, and have masters of revels at their courts. The Romans used music, gladiators, jesters, and the like at every supper—for they had no formal midday dinner—as Suetonius relates of Tiberius and Dio of Commodus; and so did the Greeks. Besides music, Xenophon’s Symposium introduces “Philip, a master of making people laugh”: Philip, a jester, was brought in to entertain them.

In book 11 of his History, Paolo Giovio has a pleasing digression on our English customs. However others may misconstrue it, I shall take it in the best sense: the whole nation, beyond all other people, is devoted to banquets and feasts. They prolong them for many hours, with delicate food, exquisite music, and witty jesters; afterwards they dance and court their sweethearts until late into the night.

Volaterranus gives the same account of this island, praising our cheerful hospitality and good humour. I think he speaks well: there is no harm in it. Long may they practise it, and all such decent amusements. Ctesias reports that a Persian king had 150 young women attend his table, taking turns to play music, sing, and dance; and Lilio Giraldi tells of an Egyptian prince who always kept nine virgins in attendance, women of exceptional beauty and sweet voices. These later gave the Greeks the idea for their story of the nine Muses.

The king of Ethiopia in Africa and most Asian princes have done, and still do, the same. Those shahs, Mughal emperors, Turks, and others take their pleasure after supper among their queens and concubines, “whom, for greater enjoyment,” my author says, “they customarily had sing and dance before the king”: taking great pleasure in seeing and hearing them sing and dance.

This and many similar ways of cheering the human heart have been practised in every age, in the knowledge that nothing better preserves life. What, then, should I say to every melancholy person, except:

Enjoy companions at table; choose friends who are not gloomy, Who take delight in trifles, laughter, and sparkling jokes.

Feast often, and keep friends who are not always sad, Whose jokes and merriment can make you glad.

Enjoy wholesome, chaste amusements, theatrical shows, plays, and games:

Let bands of young men join in, with young women among them.