In explanatory emphases the very fame words are differently marked, according to the writer's de-. fign: as, What did my mafter fay? If I lay the ftrefs upon what, it is a general interrogation; if I place it upon my, it implies that other mafters were concerned; if mafter is diftinguished, it notes that there were other perfons; and if the emphafis lies boldest upon fay, it shows I want to know his particular words.

Both the cause and the effect in any fentence require an emphafis.--Example: To live WELL, is to die HAPPY-only to be GOOD, is to be GREAT GUILT is the fource of SORROW.

CLIMAX is that progreffive force and exaltation of expreffion, which more powerfully impresses each fubject on the mind; and is not only of indifpenfible use, but also highly ornamental. In the execution of this, there is much nicety, as the. rife, in most cafes, fhould be gradual, always harmonious, and upon many occafions very forcible.To illuftrate the matter, I fhall offer several examples of different degrees of climax. First from Shakespeare's Brutus; which should rife with a full, fmooth, philofophic weight and dignity. If these,

As I am fure they do, bear fire enough
To kindle cowards, and to fteal with valour
The melting fpirits of women; then, countrymen,
What need we any fpur but our own caufe,
To prick us to redrefs? What other bond,
Than fecret Romans who have spoke the word,
And will not falter? Or what other oath,
Than honefty to honefty engag'd,

That this fhall be, or we will fall for it?

The climax of reafoning, in these lines, is too obvious to be infifted on; therefore I fhall only obferve, that the glow of expreffion, as I may call it, fhould warm, with the argument.

The Sublime and Beautiful, from Moles' Laft
Song.

:

"Give ear, oh ye heavens! and I will speak; and hear, oh earth, the words of my mouth: my doctrine fhall drop as the rain, my fpeech fhall diftil as the dew; as the fmall rain upon the tender herb; and as the fhowers upon the grafs; because I will publifh the name of the Lord. Afcribe ye greatnefs unto our God. He is the rock; his work is perfect; for all his ways are judgment. A God of truth and without iniquity-juft and right is he for the Lord's portion is his people. Jacob is the lot of his inheritance: he found him in a defart land; and in the watte howling wildernefs he led him about: he inftructed him, and kept him as the apple of his eye: as an eagle ftirreth up her neft; fluttereth over her young; fpeadeth abroad her wings; taketh them, beareth them on her wings, fo the Lord alone did lead him, and there was no ftrange god with him."

We have an example from Addifon, which calls for dignity, foftened and impaffioned by the most pathetic feeling of manly grief; a feeling which very few have imagination to conceive happily, and as few powers to exprefs properly.

"Tis Rome demands our tears;
The mistress of the world, the feat of empire!
The nurfe of heroes! the delight of gods!
That humbled the proud tyrants of the earth,

And

And fet the nations free- -Rome is no more.
Oh liberty! Oh virtue! O my country!

*

Whate'er the Roman virtue had fubdued,
The fun's whole courfe, the day and year, are
Cæfar's:

For him the felf-devoted Decii died;

The Fabii fell, and the great Scipios conquer'd;
Even Pompey fought for Cæfar! Oh, my friends,
How is the work of Fate, the toil of ages,
The Roman empire, fall'n!-Oh curs'd am-
bition !

Fallen into Cæfar's hands!- -Our great forefathers

Had left him nought to conquer but his country..

Of Pathetic Lamentation, from Jeremiah.

"How does the city fit folitary, that was full of people? how is the become as a widow? the that was great among the nations, and princess among the provinces: How is the become tributary? fhe weepeth fore in the night; and her tears are on her cheeks. Among all her loffes, fhe hath none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherously with her: they have become her enemies for these things I weep; mine eye runneth down with water, because the comforter, that fhould relieve my foul, is far from me. My children are defolate, becaufe the enemy prevailed.. My eyes do fail with tears, my bowels are troubled: my liver is poured upon the earth for the deftruction of the daughter of my people."

Of pathetic, defcriptive Melancholy, from Shake

fpeare.

of comfort no man speak;

Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make duft our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write forrow on the bofom of the earth!
Let's chufe executors, and talk of wills;
And yet not fo, for what can we bequeath,
Save our depofed bodies to the ground?
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolingbroke's,
And nothing can we call our own, but death;
And that fmall model of the barren earth
Which ferves as duft, and cover to our bones.
For heaven's fake let's fit upon the ground,
And tell fad ftories of the deaths of kings;
How fome have been depofed, fome flain in war,
Some haunted by the ghosts they difpoffeffed,
Some poifon'd by their wives, fome fleeping
kill'd;

All murther'd-for within the hollow crown
That rounds the mortal temples of a king
Keeps Death his court-throw away refpect,
Tradition, form, and ceremonious duty;
For you have but miftook me all this while.
I live on bread like you, feel want like you;
Taste grief, need friends like you. Subjected thus,
How can you fay to me, I am a king?

K. Richard II.

The following passage from Otway should gradually warm into Rapture.

Can there in woman be fuch glorious faith!
Sure all ill ftories of thy fex are falfe!

Oh woman! lovely woman! Nature made thee

To

To temper man: we had been brutes without

you:

Angels are painted fair to look like you: There's in you all that we believe of Heaven; Amazing brightnefs, purity, and truth, Eternal joy, and everlasting love.

An inftance of Climax in vindictive Rage we have in the following lines of Young

Yet ere I fall, be it one part of vengeance,
To make ev'n thee confefs that I am juft.
Thou feeft a prince whofe father thou haft flain,
Whofe native country thon haft laid in blood,
Whofe facred perfonOh, thou haft profan'd!
Whole reign extinguish'd. What was left to

me,

So highly born? No kingdom, but revenge; No treafure, but thy tortures and thy groans.

Vindictive Ferocity, from Milton.

My fentence is for open war of wiles
More inexpert I boaft not-them let thofe
Contrive who need; unworthy of our might
For while they fit contriving, shall the reft,
Millions now under arms; who longing wait
The fignal to afcend, fit lingering here,
Heav'n's fugitives; and for their dwelling-place
Accept this dark opprobrious den of fhame;
The prifon of his tyranny who reigns

By our delay ?-No! let us rather choose,
Arm'd with hell-flames and fury, all at once,
O'er heav'n's high towers to force resistless way;
Turning our tortures into horrid arms
Against our torturer-When to meet the noise

Of