As the first movements of resentment are always directed to its object, the very same is the case of grief. Yet with relation to the sudden and severe distemper that seized Alexander bathing in the river Cydnus, Quintus Curtius describes the first emotions of the army as directed to themselves, lamenting that they were left without a leader, far from home, and had scarce any hopes of returning in safety: their king's distress, which must naturally have been their first concern, occupies them but in the second place, according to that author. In the Amynta of Tasso, Sylvia, upon a report of her lover's death, which she believed certain, instead of bemoaning the loss of her beloved, turns her thoughts upon herself, and wonders her heart does not break.

In the tragedy of Jane Shore, Alicia, in the full purpose of destroying her rival, has the following reflection:

Oh Jealousy! thou bane of pleasing friendship,
Thou worst invader of our tender bosoms:
How does thy rancor poison all our softness,
And turn our gentle natures into bitterness!

See where she comes! once my heart's dearest blessing,
Now my chang'd eyes are blasted with her beauty,
Loathe that known face, and sicken to behold her.

ACT III. Sc. 1.

These are the reflections of a cool spectator. A passion, while it has the ascendant, and is freely indulged, suggests not to the person who feels it any sentiment to its own prejudice; reflections like the foregoing occur not readily till the passion has spent its vigor. A person sometimes is agitated at once by different passions; and the mind, vibrating like a pen ́dulum, vents itself in sentiments that partake of the same vibration.

Queen. Would I had never trod this English earth,
Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it!
Ye've angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts.
What shall become of me now? wretched lady!
I am the most unhappy woman living.

Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes?
[to her women.

Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity,
No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me,
Almost no grave allow'd me!

Othello. Oh devil, devil!

HENRY VIII.-ACT III. Sc. 1.

If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile.
Out of my sight!

Desdemona. I will not stay t' offend you.
Lodovico. Truly, an obedient lady:

I do beseech your Lordship, call her back.
Oth. Mistress-

Des. My Lord.

Oth. What would you with her, Sir?

Lod. Who, I, my Lord?

Oth. Ay! you did wish that I would make her turn:

Sir, she can turn and turn, and yet go on;

And turn again. And she can weep, Sir, weep:
And she's obedient: as you say obedient;
Very obedient-proceed you in your tears-
Concerning this, Sir-oh well-painted passion!
I am commanded home-get you away,
I'll send for you anon-Sir, I obey the mandate,
And will return to Venice.- -Hence, avaunt!

[Exit Desdemona. OTHELLO-ACT IV. Sc. 1.

Emilia. Oh! my good Lord, I would speak a word with

you.

Othello. Yes, 'tis Emilia-By and by-She's dead.

'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death;

The noise was high-Ha! no more moving?

Still as the grave.-Shall she come in?-were 't good?
I think she stirs again-No-What's the best?
If she come in, she 'll sure speak to my wife;
My wife! my wife! What wife! I have no wife;
Oh insupportable! O heavy hour!

OTHELLO.-ACT V. Sc. 2.

Nature, which gave us passions, and made them extremely beneficial when moderate, intended undoubtedly that they should be subjected to the government of reason and conscience. It is therefore against the order of nature, that passion in any case should take the lead in contradiction to reason and conscience: such a state of mind is a sort of anarchy, which every one is ashamed of, and endeavors to hide or dissemble. Even love, however laudable, is attended with a con

scious shame when it becomes immoderate; it is covered from the world, and disclosed only to the beloved object:

O, they love least that let men know their love.

Two GENTLEMEN OF VERONA.-ACT I. Sc. 2.

Hence a capital rule in the representation of immoderate passions, that they ought to be hid or dissembled as much as possible. And this holds in an especial manner with respect to criminal passions: one never counsels the commission of a crime in plain terms; the proposal must be made by hints, and by representing the action in some favorable light. Of the propriety of sentiment upon such an occasion, Shakspeare, in the Tempest, has given us a beautiful example, in a speech by the usurping Duke of Milan, advising Sebastian to murder his brother the King of Naples:

Antonio.

What might,

-no more.

Worthy Sebastian-O, what might—
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face,

What thou shouldst be: th' occasion speaks thee, and
My strong imagination sees a crown

Dropping upon thy head.

ACT II. Sc. 1.

There never was drawn a more complete picture of this kind, than that of King John soliciting Hubert to murder the young Prince Arthur:

K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O my gentle Hubert,
We owe thee much: within this wall of flesh

There is a soul counts thee her creditor,
And with advantage means to pay thy love.
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath
Lives in this bosom, dearly cherished.
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say-
But I will fit it with some better time.
By Heaven, Hubert, I'm almost asham'd
To say what good respect I have of thee.

Hubert. I am much bounden to your Majesty.

K. John. Good friend, thou hast no cause to say so yet

But thou shalt have-and creep time ne'er so slow,

Yet it shall come for me to do thee good.

I had a thing to say—but let it go;

The sun is in the heaven; and the proud day,
Attended with the pleasures of the world,

Is all too wanton, and too full of gawds,

To give me audience. If the midnight bell
Did with his iron tongue and brazen mouth
Sound one unto the drowsy race of night;
If this same were a church-yard where we stand,
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs;
Or if that surly spirit Melancholy

Had bak'd thy blood, and made it heavy thick,
Which else runs tickling up and down the veins,
Making that idiot Laughter keep men's eyes,
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment,
(A passion hateful to my purposes;)

Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes,
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply
Without a tongue, using conceit alone,
Without eyes, ears, and harmful sound of words;
Then, in despite of broad-eyed watchful day,
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts.
But ah, I will not-Yet I love thee well;
And, by my troth, I think thou lov'st me well.
Hubert. So well, that what you bid me undertake,
Though that my death were adjunct to my act,
By Heaven I'd do't.

K. John. Do not I know thou wouldst?
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye
On yon young boy. I'll tell thee what, my friend;
He is a very serpent in my way;

And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
He lies before me. Dost thou understand me?
Thou art his keeper.
KING JOHN.

ACT III. Sc. 3.

As things are best illustrated by their contraries, I proceed to faulty sentiments.

The first class contains faulty sentiments of various kinds; I begin with sentiments that are faulty by being above the tone of the passion :

Othello.

O my soul's joy!
If after every tempest come such calms,
May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the laboring bark climb hills of seas
Olympus high, and duck again as low

As hell's from heaven.

OTHELLO.-ACT II. Sc. 1.

This sentiment may be suggested by violent and inflamed passion, but is not suited to the calm satisfaction that one feels upon escaping danger.

Philaster. Place me, some god, upon a pyramid

Higher than hills of earth, and lend a voice

Loud as your thunder to me, that from thence

I may discourse to all the under world

The worth that dwells in him.

PHILASTER OF BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.-ACT IV.

Second. Sentiments below the tone of the passion. Ptolemy, by putting Pompey to death, having incurred the displeasure of Cæsar, was in the utmost dread of being dethroned: in that agitated situation, Corneille makes him utter a speech full of cool reflection, that is in no degree expressive of the passion.

In Les Freres Ennemies of Racine, the second act is opened with a love-scene: Hemon talks to his mistress of the torments of absence, of the lustre of her eyes, that he ought to die nowhere but at her feet, and that one moment of absence is a thousand years. Antigone, on her part, acts the coquette; pretends she must be gone to wait on her mother and brother, and cannot stay to listen to his courtship. This is odious French gallantry, below the dignity of the passion of love: it would scarce be excusable in painting modern French manners; and is insufferable where the ancients are brought upon the stage. The manners painted in the Alexandre of the same author are not more just: French gallantry prevails there throughout.

Third. Sentiments that agree not with the tone of the passion; as where a pleasant sentiment is grafted upon a painful passion, or the contrary. In the following instances, the sentiments are too gay for a serious passion:

No happier task these faded eyes pursue;
To read and weep is all they now can do.

Again:

ELOISA TO ABELARD, 1. 47.

Heaven first taught letters for some wretch's aid,
Some banish'd lover, or some captive maid;

They live, they speak, they breathe what love inspires,
Warm from the soul, and faithful to its fires;
The virgin's wish without her fears impart,
Excuse the blush, and pour out all the heart;
Speed the soft intercourse from soul to soul,
And waft a sigh from Indus to the Pole.

ELOISA TO ABELARD, 1. 51.

These thoughts are pretty: they suit Pope, but not Eloisa.