“[…] the awfully hearty sort of Christmas cards that people do send to other people that they don't know at all well. You know. The kind that have mottoes[…]. And then, when you see [the senders], you probably find that they are the most melancholy old folk with malignant diseases. […]”
1621, Democritus Junior [pseudonym; Robert Burton], The Anatomy of Melancholy, Oxford: Printed by Iohn Lichfield and Iames Short, for Henry Cripps, OCLC216894069; The Anatomy of Melancholy:[…], 2nd corrected and augmented edition, Oxford: Printed by John Lichfield and James Short, for Henry Cripps, 1624, OCLC54573970, (please specify |partition=1, 2, or 3):
, Bk.I, New York 2001, p.148:
Melancholy, cold and dry, thick, black, and sour,[…]is a bridle to the other two hot humours, blood and choler, preserving them in the blood, and nourishing the bones.
I have neither the scholar’s melancholy, which is emulation; nor the musician’s, which is fantastical; nor the courtier’s, which is proud; nor the soldier’s, which is ambitious; nor the lawyer’s, which is politic; nor the lady’s, which is nice; nor the lover’s, which is all these; but it is a melancholy of mine own, compounded of many simples, extracted from many objects, and, indeed, the sundry contemplation of my travels; in which my often rumination wraps me in a most humorous sadness.