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And do a wilful stillness entertain,
With purpose to be drest in an opinion
Of wisdom, gravity, profound conceit,
As who should say, I am, sir, Oracle,
And when I ope my lips, let no dog bark!
I'll tell thee more of this another time;
But fish not with this melancholy bait
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion.
Come, good Lorenzo, fare ye well a while,
I'll end my exhortation after dinner.
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 ?
Ere while they fierce were coming, and when we,
To entertain them fair with open front
And breast, (what could we more ?) propounded terms
Of composition, straight they chang'd their minds,
Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell,
As they would dance : yet for a dance they seem'd
Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps
For joy of offer'd peace ; but I suppose,
If our proposals once again were heard,
We should compel them to a quick result.'
Milton's Parad. Lost.
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.
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.
Dr. Young's Revenge.
Joy approaching to Folly.
Come, let us to the castle ;
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,
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. Governour, friend,
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.
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 [moinda 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 reign
In full delight, in joys to pow'r unknown,
Your love my empire, and your heart my throne.
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.
Delight on viewing a Statue.
Leon. ---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 Pau ina,
Make me to think so twenty years together,
No settled senses of the world can match
The pleasure of that madness. 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.
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 Nigbt.
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.
What you do
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,