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emotion or passion thus speaks, its language is often confined to no particular part of the body, but the living frame as a whole sympathizes in the action."
Tranquillity appears by the composure of the countenance and general repose of the whole body, without the exertion of any one muscle. The countenance open, the forehead smooth, the eyebrows arched, the mouth not quite shut, and the eyes passing with an easy motion from object to object, but not dwelling long upon any one.
How beautiful this night! The balmiest sigh,
That wraps this moveless scene.
Heaven's ebon vault,
Studded with stars unutterably bright,
Through which the moon's unclouded grandeur rolls,
To curtain her sleeping world. Yon gentle hills,
A metaphor of peace; all form a scene
Where musing solitude might love to lift
Her soul above this sphere of earthlinesss;
Where silence, undisturbed, might watch alone,
When joy is settled into a habit, or flows from a placid temper of mind, desiring to please and be pleased, it is called gayety, good humor, or cheerfulness. Cheer
fulness adds a smile to tranquillity, and opens the mouth
a little more.
Now, my co-mates and brothers in exile,
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet
Wears yet a precious jewel in its head;
And this our life exempt from public haunts,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
-As You Like It.
When joy arises from ludicrous or fugitive amusements in which others share with us it is called merriment or mirth.
Mirth or laughter opens the mouth horizontally, raises the cheeks high, lessens the aperture of the eyes, and, when violent, shakes and convulses the whole frame, fills the eyes with tears, and occasions holding the sides from the pain the convulsive laughter gives them.
Jaq. A fool, a fool! I met a fool i' the forest,
As I do live by food, I met a fool;
Who laid him down and basked him in the sun,
"Good-morrow, fool," quoth I: "No, sir," quoth he,
And then he drew a dial from his poke:
Thus may we see," quoth he, "how the world wags. 'Tis but an hour ago since it was nine,
And after an hour more 'twill be eleven;
And so from hour to hour we ripe and ripe,
O noble fool!
An hour by his dial.
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 delectation over the whole frame. When it is sudden and violent it expresses itself by clapping the hands, raising the eyes toward 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 ecstasy, it has a wildness of look and gesture that borders on folly, madness, and sorrow.
Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy
Be heaped like mine, and that thy skill be more
-Romeo and Juliet.
Joy Approaching to Transport.
O! Joy, thou welcome stranger, twice three years
It warms my veins, and plays about my heart;
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 eyebrows are drawn down, and the features contracted or drawn together.
Pity for a Departed Friend.
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? your own grinning! Quite chop-fallen! lady's chamber, and tell her, let her paint an inch thick, to this favor she must come; make her laugh at that.—Hamlet.
Not one now to mock
Now get thee to my
Hope is a mixture of desire and joy agitating the mind and anticipating its enjoyment. It erects and brightens the countenance, spreads the arms and hands open as to receive the object of its wishes. The voice is plaintive and inclined to eagerness, the breath drawn inward more forcibly than usual in order to express our desire 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
But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
A soft responsive voice was heard at every close,
Hatred or Aversion draws back the body as if to avoid the hated object, the hands at the same time thrown outspread as if to keep it off. The face is turned away from that side toward which the hands are thrown out, the eyes looking angrily and obliquely the same way the hands are directed; the eyebrows 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.
Hatred and Revenge.
How like a fawning publican he looks!
I hate him, for he is a Christian:
But more, for that in low simplicity,
He lends out money gratis, and brings down
On me, my bargains, and my well-won thrift,