tion over the whole frame: When it is sudden and violent, it expresses itself by clapping the hands, raising the eyes towards heaven, and giving such a spring to the body as to make it attempt to mount up as if it could fly: When Joy is extreme, and goes into transport, rapture, and extacy, it has a wildness of look and gesture that borders on folly, madness, and sorrow.

Joy expected.

Ah, Juliet! if the measure of thy joy

Be heap'd like mine, and that thy skill be more
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath
This neighbour air, and let rich musick's tongue
Unfold the imagin'd happiness that both
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

Shakes. Rom. and Jul.

Joy approaching to Transport.

Oh, joy! thou welcome stranger, twice three years
I have not felt thy vital beam, but now

It warms my veins, and plays about my heart;

A fiery instinct lifts me from the ground,

And I could mount.

Joy approaching to Folly.

Come, let us to the castle;

Dr. Young's Revengé.

News, Friends our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd;
How do our old acquaintance of this isle ?-

Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus ;

I have found great love among them. O, my sweet,
I prattle out of fashion, and I dote

In mine own comforts

Joy bordering on Sorrow.

O my soul's joy!

If after every tempest come such calms,

Shakes. Othello.

May the winds blow till they have waken'd death!
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas,

Olympus high, and duck again as low

As hell's from heav'n! If it were now to die,

'Twere now to be most happy, for I fear
My soul hath her content so absolute,
That not another comfort like to this
Succeeds in unknown fate.

Joy, or Satisfaction inexpressible.

Imoinda, Oh! this separation,
Has made you dearer, if it can be so,
Than you were ever to me: you appear
Like a kind star to my benighted steps,
To guide me on my way to happiness;
I cannot miss it now.
You think me mad: But let me bless you all
Who any ways have been the instruments
Of finding her again Imoinda's found!
And every thing that I would have in her.

Governour, friend,

I have a thousand things to ask of her,
And she as many more to know of me,
But you have made me happier, I confess,
Acknowledge it much happier, than I

Have words or power to tell you. Captain, you,
Ev'n you, who most have wrong'd me, I forgive:
I will not say you have betray'd me now,
I'll think you but the minister of fate
To bring me to my lov'd Imoinda here.
Let the fools

Who follow fortune live upon her smiles,
All our prosperity is plac'd in love,

We have enough of that to make us happy;
This little spot of earth
you stand

upon,

Is more to me than the extended plains

Of my great father's kingdom; here I reigu
In full delight, in joys to pow'r unknown,

Your love my empire, and your heart my throne.

DELIGHT.

Ibidem.

Southern's Oroonoko.

Delight is a high degree of satisfaction, or rather is joy moderated, and affording leisure to dwell on the pleasing object; the tones, looks, and gestures, are the same as those of joy, but less forcible, and more permanent. Thus we gaze upon a pleasing figure or picture, listen to musick, and are intent upon delightful studies.

Leon.

Delight on viewing a Statue.

-See, my lord,

Would you not deem it breath'd, and that those veins
Did verily bear blood?

Paul. My lord's almost so far transported that
He'll think anon it lives.

Leon O sweet Paulina,

Make me to think so twenty years together,

No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness.

LOVE.

Shakesp. Winter's Tale

Love is not ill defined by Aaron Hill, when he calls it, desire kept temperate by reverence: it is, he says, a conscious and triumphant swell of hope, intimidated by respectful apprehension of offending, where we long to seem agreeable: it is complaint made amiable by gracefulness; reproach endeared by tenderness; and rapture awed by reverence; the idea, then, says he, to be conceived by one who would express love elegantly, is that of joy combined with fear.

To this we may add Shakespeare's description of this passion, in As You Like It.

Phabe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 'tis to love.
Syl. It is to be all made of phantasy;

All made of passion, and all made of wishes;
All adoration, duty, and observance,

All humbleness, all patience, and impatience;
All purity, all trial, all observance.

As You Like It.

If these are just descriptions of love, how unlike to it is that passion which so profanely assumes its

name !

Love gives a soft serenity to the countenance, a languishing to the eyes, a sweetness to the voice, and a tenderness to the whole frame: when intreating, it clasps the hands, with intermingled fingers, to the breast; when declaring, the right hand, open, is pressed

with force upon the breast exactly over the heart; it makes its approaches with the utmost delicacy, and is attended with trembling hesitation and confusion. Love described.

Come hither, boy; if ever thou shalt love,
In the sweet pangs of it remember me,
For such as I am, all true lovers are ;
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else,
Save in the constant image of the creature
That is belov'd.-

Shakespeare's Twelfth Night.

Description of languishing Love.

O fellow, come, the song we had last night :

Mark it, Cesario; it is old and plain;

The spinsters, and the knitters in the sun,

And the free maids that weave their thread with bones,
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,

And dallies with the innocence of love

Like to old age.

If musick be the food of love, play on ;
Give me excess of it; that, surfeiting,
The appetite may sicken, and so die—
That strain again ;-it had a dying fall;
O, it came o'er my ear, like the sweet south,
That breathes upon a bank of violets,

Stealing and giving adour.-Enough, no more,
Tis not so sweet now, as it was before.

O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou!
That, notwithstanding thy capacity
Receiveth as the sea, nought enters there,
Of what validity and pitch soever,
But falls into abatement and low price,

Even in a minute! so full of shapes is Fancy,

That it alone is high fantastical.

Delight in Love.

What you do

Ibid.

Twelfth Night.

Still betters what is done. When you speak, sweet,

I'd have you do it ever: When you sing,

I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms,

Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too : When you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,

And own no other function: each your doing,
So singular in each particular,

Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.

Protestation in Love.

Ibid. Winter's Tale.

O,

hear me breathe my life

Before this ancient Sir,

who, it should seem,

Hath some time lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand,
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ;

Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow,

That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er.

Shakespeare's Winter's Tale:

Love complaining.

Ay, Protheus, but that life is alter'd now;
I have done penance for contemning Love,
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd me
With bitter fasts, with penitential groans,

With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs:

For in revenge of my contempt of Love,

Love hath chas'd sleep from my enthralled eyes,

And made them watchers of mine own heart's sorrow.

O gentle Protheus, Love's a mighty lord,

And hath so humbled me, as I confess

There is no woe to his correction;

Nor to his service, any joy on earth;
Now no discourse except it be of Love;

Now can I break my fast, dine, sup, and sleep,
Upon the very simple name of Love.

Shakespeare's Two Gent. of Verona.

PITY.

Pity is benevolence to the afflicted. It is a mixture of love for an object that suffers, and a grief that we are not able to remove those sufferings. It shows itself in a compassionate tenderness of voice, a feeling of pain in the countenance, and a gentle raising and falling of the hands and eyes, as if mourning