University of Virginia Library

Bvt now the cause of mans Revengefull thirst
Proceeds from rash unbridled Choler first:
Which Passion flowes from imbecility,
And bring us unto much absurdity:
Yea, those that are infected with this crime,
Are (in a manner) mad-men for the time.
'Tis a short Fury, wherewith man possest,
Resembles most a wilde untamed beast.
It makes the wisest so beside their wit,
They speake and practise many a thing unfit:
Yea, those in whom I finde this Passion raigne,
I have oft seene to storme for things but vaine;
And chasing fret at poore halfe-penny losses,
As if for some intolerable crosses.
In a slight trifle or some flender toy,
You would suppose consisted all their joy:
For should a wise man every sorrow prove
This world could heape, it would not so much move
His setled patience as one Rascall fit
Would on no ground in these distemper it.

There is this weakenesse, which in Cholerick men,
I have observed raigning now, and then,
They are not onely ready to beleeve
The least report that may occasion give
Of discontents; but so doth anger blinde them,
As, if no causes be, they'l seeke to finde them,
And (in light matters, if they should contend)
Would pick a quarrell with their dearest friend.

Yea, I have seen where friends, (nay more) where brothers
That be, or should be, dearer far than others,
Have in their heat of anger, turned foes,
And mixed strange words with far sharper blowes.
Nor doe, nor can they in this humour spare
Any degree. For reverence nor care
Doth them remaine; although they be most sure
Their heedlesse words not foes alone procure,
But lose their friends: nor doe they in that case,
Respect the time, nor company, nor place.

Besides, there is this over-sight in some
(Where Choler doth the Reason overcome)
They doe not onely blame him that offends,
But are displeas'd even with their dearest friends;
And with the like displeasure do pursue
All that are in their presence or their view.
Yet if that any should but tell these men
Such anger were without just reason, then,
Although it be so, and they know it right.
Their fury would the more increase with spight:
They cannot bear controule; neither can they
Brook him ought better that doth nothing say;
For then indeed they presently suspect,
He carelesly their anger doth neglect.

Some Masters and some Tutors I espie
Too much orecome with this infirmity.
They are so hot and confident in this,
That all their anger still with reason is:
As if they think their servants do offend,
They must not their suspected crimes defend,
Guilty or no; but yeeld to all they say
What-ever shame or wrong betide them may.
And so be sure to make it an offence,
Though but by wronging their own innocence,
Which is meer tyranny. And he that can
Force to such slavery the minde of man,
By my opinion shall for ever passe
For an imperious, foolish, wayward Asse,
Who looks so much what duty others owe,
That he himselfe doth scarcely manners know.

This Anger is a wondrous head-strong Passion,
And hath a beastly frantick operation;
From which how can we any man release,
When we must neither speak nor hold our peace?

Some will be angry if they cannot make
All others their opinions undertake.
But let them keep from me, or I should chaufe them,
For out of that fond humour I would laugh them.
Others have meanings but they cannot show them.
And therefore fret at all that do not know them.
And I have seene (that anger may be holy)
A good man moved for anothers folly.

The hurt that through this Passion doth ensue
Is great although observ'd by very few.
For that which hath ensu'd on one mans spleene,
The ruine of a State hath often beene.
And therefore (though I none excuse the while,)
I hold it much lesse seemely and more vile
In men authoriz'd, than in those that be
Borne to a lower fortune or degree,
For, when this fit possesseth private men,
They trouble but themselves; or now and then
Their private families: when if it ceaze
On eminent and mighty personages.
It doth distemper thousands and thereby
Whole Provinces do oft oppressed lye.
In my opinion, hee's unfit to weeld
The sword of Iustice, that doth basely yeeld
To such a brutish Passion: howsoe'er
In other things he most sufficient were:
Though some in places of esteeme there be,
Whom therewith strangely overcome we see.

Oh why should they to governe others fit
Who know not how to rule themselves as yet?
The angry and incensed Magistrate,
On them to be aveng'd whom he doth hate
For private causes, drawes the publike sword;
And all extremity the Lawes afford
He makes to serve his rage. And if that faile,
Hee'l straine his conscience, but he will prevaile.

But divers thinke, that such as hasty be,
(For so they title this infirmitie)
Best-natur'd are. But yet I see not how,
I that Position may for truth allow.
For, (whosoere 'twas first that saying taught)
If they are best, I'le sweare the best is naught.
Moreover, there be many doe suppose,
It is a signe of courage. What meane those?
Where is their judgment? they me thinks should gather
That it were weakenesse did produce it rather:
Or else, why should the feeble and the sick,
Women and Children be most cholerick?

Againe, there's some whose judgement is as rude
As to suppose it quickens Fortitude.
Which cannot be; for they must grant me then,
That Vice, assist to perfect Vertue can:
Which I cannot beleeve nor come to see
How fortitude and anger can agree.
For one a resolution is that's steady,
And rul'd by reason, th' other rash and heady:
Yea, th' one doth nothing but on consultation,
The other cannot take deliberation,
But head-long unadvisedly doth tend,
Till it in sorrow, shame or ruine end.
And though some thence much help would seeme gather
To whet true valour on; it hinders rather:
Yea so unreasonable is this Passion,
It overthrowes in man all seemely fashion;
Making him speake if ought but discontent him,
Yea doe the thing of which he shall repent him:
And such a dangerous kinde of Lunatick
Is he who useth to be Cholerick
That of a friend if I might chuser be,
I'd rather have a man that's mad than he.
Yet men doe rarely seeke to stop this ill
But as they grow in yeares, that groweth still.
As if it were a humour whence could rise,
Not any thing which them might prejudice.
And they so yeeld themselves to the invasion
Of this strange frenzy on the least occasion:
That when they thinke the fury to suppresse
Of this disease, they can doe nothing lesse.
For he that will a certaine med'cine finde
For such a malady must have a minde
Setled in good, and an unfain'd intent
To prosecute what he in shew hath meant.

Light trust he must not give to all reports,
Nor take too much delight in idle sports.
On toyes his love should never so be set,
To make him for their absence grieve or fret.
He must be wary still, not to adore
Treasure or Honours (heapt upon him) more
Than will befit such things as needs must perish,
For oft that folly doth this Passion cherish.
Let Dogs, nor Hawkes, nor any pleasure move,
But as it doth indifferent things behooue.
At no time let him rashly speake or doe,
What selfe-conceit doth urge or prompt him to,
And not alone this my advice embrace,
But learne of Cotis, that wise King of Thrace,
Who having many precious vessels sent
Of britle metall (fearing discontent)
Might for their losse another day arise
The Messenger he richly gratifies;
And then before his face against the stones
Dashes the costly present for the nones:
To shew that those, who angers flames would hinder
Must first remove the Fuell and the Tinder.