And do a wilful stillness entertain, SNEER. Merchant of Venice. Sneer is ironical approbation: where, with a voice and countenance of mirth somewhat exaggerated, we cast the severest censures; it is hypocritical mirth and good humour, and differs from the real by the sly, arch, satirical tone of voice, look, and gesture, that accompany it. Scoffing at supposed Cowardice. Satan beheld their plight, And to his mates thus in derision call'd: O friends, why come not on those victors proud? And breast, (what could we more?) propounded terms As they would dance: yet for a dance they seem'd Milton's Parad. Lost. JOY. A pleasing elation of mind, on the actual or assured attainment of good, or deliverance from evil, is called Joy. Joy, when moderate, opens the countenance with smiles, and throws, as it were, a sunshine of delecta 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 Shakes. Rom. and Jul. Joy approaching to Transport. Oh, joy! thou welcome stranger, twice three years 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 Revenge. News, Friends; our wars are done, the Turks are drown'd; Honey, you shall be well desir'd in Cyprus ; I have found great love among them. O, my sweet, In mine own comforts. Shakes. Othello. May the winds blow till they have waken'd death! 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 Joy, or Satisfaction inexpressible. Governour, friend, Imoinda, Oh! this separation, Have words or power to tell you. Captain, you, Who follow fortune live upon her smiles, Ibidem We have enough of that to make us happy ; DELIGHT. 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 Paul. My lord's almost so far transported that 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. All made of passion, and all made of wishes; All humbleness, all patience, and impatience; 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 224 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, 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, And dallies with the innocence of love Like to old age. If musick be the food of love, play on ; O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! 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 buy and sell so; so give alms, |