undecent and uncivil, according to that which we read in the poet:
And when I came, aloud I cried not,
And asked who she was, or daughter whose?
But kist my love full sweetly, that I wot:
If this be sin? but sin I cannot choose.
Also that which we permit those to do who are in sorrow, namely, to mourn, to lament and weep for losses or mishaps; certainly with their sighs which they fetch, and tears that they shed, they do send out and discharge a good part of their grief and anguish. But it is not so with the passion of anger: for surely, the more that they stir and speak who are surprised therewith, the more hot it is, and the flame burneth out the rather; and therefore the best way is for a man to be quiet, to fly and keep him out of the way, or else to retire himself into some haven of surety and repose, when he perceiveth that there is a fit of anger toward, as if he felt an access of the falling evil coming. This (I say) we ought to do, for fear lest we fall down, or rather run and rush upon some one or other. But who be they that we run upon? Surely our very friends, for the greatest part, and those we wrong most. As for our affection of love, it standeth not to all things indifferently, neither do we hate nor yet fear we everything alike: But what is it that ire setteth not upon? nothing is there but it doth assail and lay hands on; we are angry with our enemies; we chafe with our friends; with children, with parents we are wrath; nay, the very gods themselves we forbear not in our choleric mood; we fly upon dumb and brute beasts; we spare not so much as our utensil vessels and implements, which have neither sense nor life at all, if they stand in our way, we fare like Thamyris the musician,
Who brake his cornet, finely bound
And tipt with gold: his lute he hent,
Well strung and tun'd to pleasant sound,
And it anon to fitters rent.
Thus did Pandarus also, who cursed, and betook himself to all the fiends in hell, if he did not burst his bow and arrows with his own hands, and throw them into the fire when he had so done. As for Xerxes, he stuck not to whip, to lash and scourge the sea, and to the mountain Athos he sent his minatory letters in this form; Thou wretched and wicked Athos, that bear est up thy head aloft into the sky; see thou bring forth no great craggy stones, I advise thee, for my works, and such as be hard to be cut
