Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs, Nothing but that; move still, still So, And own no other function : each your doing, Crowns what you are doing in the present deeds, Protestation in Love. Before this ancient Sir, Ibid. Winter's Tale. O, hear me breathe my life who, it should seem, Hath some time lov'd: I take thy hand; this hand, Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow, That's bolted by the northern blasts twice o'er. Shakespeare's Winter's Tale. Lobe complaining. Ay, Protheus, but that life is alter'd now; 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 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 over the unhappy object. The mouth is open, the eye-brows are drawn down, and the features contracted or drawn together. See p. 314, 315. Pity in plaintive narration. As in a theatre the eyes of men, Even so, or with much more contempt, men's eyes That had not God, for some strong purpose, steel'd But heaven hath a hand in those events; To whose high will we bound our calm contents. Shakespeare's Rich. II. Pity for falling greatness. Ah, Richard! with eyes of heavy mind, Pity for a departed Friend. Ibid. Alas! Poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio; a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a thousand times: and now how abhorred in my imagination it is; my gorge rises at it. Here hung those lips that I have kissed, I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? Your songs? Your flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the table on a roar? Not one now to mock your own grinning? Quite chop-fallen? Now get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, et her paint an inch thick, to this favour she must come; make her laugh at that. Ibid, Hamlet. Pity for the object beloved. Poor lord is 't I That chase thee from thy country, and expose Of the none-sparing war? and is it I That drive thee from the sportive court, where thou Fly with false aim: move the still-piercing air, 1 met the raven lion when he roar'd With sharp constraint of hunger; better 'twere Were mine at once: No, come thou home, Rovellon, As oft it loses all; I will be gone : My being here it is, that holds thee hence ; And angels offic'd all ! I will be gone. Shakespeare's All's Well, &c. Pity for youth over-watched. Luc. I have slept, my lord, already. Bru. It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again; I shall not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee. Musick, and a song. This is a sleepy tune; O murd'rous slumber! That plays thee musick? Gentle knave, good night; Ibid. Jul. Cas. HOPE. Hope is a mixture of desire and joy, agitating the mind, and anticipating its enjoyment. It e rects and and brightens the countenance, spreads the arms, with the hands open, as to receive the object of its wishes the voice is plaintive, and inclining to eagerness; the breath drawn inwards more forcibly than usual, in order to express our desires the more strongly, and our earnest expectation of receiving the object of them. Collins, in his Ode on the Passions, gives us a beautiful picture of Hope : But thou, O Hope, with eyes so fair, And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail; And from the rocks, the woods, the vale, She call'd on echo still through all the song; And where her sweetest theme she chose, A soft responsive voice was heard at every close, Hope from approaching Nuptials. Now, fair Hippolita, our nuptial hour Shakesp. Midsum. Night's Dream. Hope of good tidings. O Hope, sweet flatterer, whose delusive touch HATRED, AVERSION. Glover's Boadicea. When, by frequent reflection on a disagreeable object, our disapprobation of it is attended with a disin clination of mind towards it, it is called hatred. When our hatred and disapprobation of any object are accompanied with a painful sensation upon the apprehension of its presence or approach, there follows an inclination to avoid it, called aversion. Hatred, or aversion, draws back the body as to avoid the hated object; the hands at the same time thrown out spread, as if to keep it off. The face is turned away from that side towards which the hands are thrown out; the eyes looking angrily, and obliquely the same way the hands are directed; the eye-brows are contracted, the upper lip disdainfully drawn up, and the teeth set; the pitch of the voice is low, but loud and harsh, the tone chiding, unequal, surly, and vehement, the sentences are short and abrupt. A description and example of this passion from Shakespeare is given in the introduction to these examples, p. 313. To these we shall add a few others: Hatred cursing the object hated. Poison be their drink, Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest meat they taste; And boding screech-owls make the concert full ; This seems imitated by Dr. Young. Why get thee gone, horrour and night go with thee, Go dance about the bow'r and close them in ; |