ect by Nature to
Anger, and yet so famous from a Conquest of himself this Way, that he is
the known Example when you talk of Temper and Command of a Man's Self.
To contain the Spirit of Anger, is the worthiest Discipline we can put
our selves to. When a Man has made any Progress this way, a frivolous
Fellow in a Passion, is to him as contemptible as a froward Child. It
ought to be the Study of every Man, for his own Quiet and Peace. When he
stands combustible and ready to flame upon every thing that touches him,
Life is as uneasie to himself as it is to all about him. _Syncropius_
leads, of all Men living, the most ridiculous Life; he is ever
offending, and begging Pardon. If his Man enters the Room without what
he sent for, _That Blockhead_, begins he--_Gentlemen, I ask your Pardon,
but Servants now a-days_--The wrong Plates are laid, they are thrown
into the Middle of the Room; his Wife stands by in Pain for him, which
he sees in her Face, and answers as if he had heard all she was
thinking; _Why, what the Devil! Why don't you take Care to give Orders
in these things?_ His Friends sit down to a tasteless Plenty of every
thing, every Minute expecting new Insults from his impertinent Passions.
In a Word, to eat with, or visit _Syncropius_, is no other than going to
see him exercise his Family, exercise their Patience, and his own Anger.

It is monstrous that the Shame and Confusion in which this good-natured
angry Man must needs behold his Friends while he thus lays about him,
does not give him so much Reflection as to create an Amendment. This is
the most scandalous Disuse of Reason imaginable; all the harmless Part
of him is no more than that of a Bull-Dog, they are tame no longer than
they are not offended. One of these good-natured angry Men shall, in an
Instant, assemble together so many Allusions to secret Circumstances, as
are enough to dissolve the Peace of all the Families and Friends he is
acquainted with, in a Quarter of an Hour, and yet the next Moment be the
best-natured Man in the whole World. If you would see Passion in its
Purity, without Mixture of Reason, behold it represented in a mad Hero,
drawn by a mad Poet. _Nat Lee_ makes his _Alexander_ say thus:

'Away, begon, and give a Whirlwind Room,
Or I will blow you up like Dust! Avaunt;
Madness but meanly represents my Toil.
Eternal Discord!
Fury! Revenge! Disdain and Indignation!
Tear my swoln Breast, make way for Fire and Tempest.
My B