Dotage or infirm old age, shews itself by talkativeness, boasting of the past, hollowness of the eyes and cheeks, dimness of sight, deafness, tremor of voice, the accents, through default of teeth, scarce intelligible; hams weak, knees tottering, head paralytic, hollow coughing, frequent expectoration, breathless wheezing, laborious groaning, the body stooping under the insupportable load of years, which soon shall crush it into the dust, from whence it had its origin.

Folly, that is, of a natural ideot, gives the face an habitual thoughtless, brainless grin.  The eyes dance from object to object, without ever fixing steadily upon any one.  A thousand different and incoherent passions, looks, gestures, speeches and absurdities, are played off every moment.

Distraction opens the eyes to a frightful wideness, rolls them hastily and wildly from object to object; distorts every feature; gnashes with the teeth; agitates all parts of the body; rolls in the dust; foams at the mouth; utters, with hideous bellowings, execrations, blasphemies, and all that is fierce and outrageous, rushes furiously on all who approach; and, if not restrained, tears its own fiesh, and destroys itself.

Sickness has infirmity and feebleness in every motion and utterance.  The eyes dim, and almost closed; cheeks pale and hollow; the jaw fallen; the head hung down, as if too heavy to be supported by the neck.  A general inertia prevails.  The voice trembling; the utterance through the nose; every sentence accompanied with a groan; the hand shaking, and the knees tottering under the body; or the body stretched helpless on the bed.

Fainting produces a sudden relaxation of all that holds the human frame together, every sinew and ligament unstrung.  The colour flies from the vermilion cheek; the sparkling eye grows dim.  Down the body drops, as helpless, and senseless, as a mass of clay, to which, by its colour and appearance, it seems hastening to resolve itself—­Which leads me to conclude with: 

Death the awful end of all flesh; which exhibits nothing in appearance different from what I have been just describing; for fainting continued ends in death,—­a subject almost too serious to be made a matter of artificial imitation.

Lower degrees of every passion are to be expressed by more moderate exertions of voice and gesture; as every public speaker’s discretion will suggest to him.

Mixed passions, or emotions of the mind, require a mixed expression. Pity, for example, is composed of grief and love.  It is therefore evident, that a correct speaker must, by his looks and gestures, and by the tone and pitch of his voice, express both grief and love, in expressing pity, and so of the rest.