rain is burst, Debate and Reason quench'd;
The Storm is up, and my hot bleeding Heart
Splits with the Rack, while Passions, like the Wind,
Rise up to Heav'n, and put out all the Stars.'

Every passionate Fellow in Town talks half the Day with as little
Consistency, and threatens Things as much out of his Power.

The next disagreeable Person to the outrageous Gentleman, is one of a
much lower Order of Anger, and he is what we commonly call a peevish
Fellow. A peevish Fellow is one who has some Reason in himself for being
out of Humour, or has a natural Incapacity for Delight, and therefore
disturbs all who are happier than himself with Pishes and Pshaws, or
other well-bred Interjections, at every thing that is said or done in
his Presence. There should be Physick mixed in the Food of all which
these Fellows eat in good Company. This Degree of Anger passes,
forsooth, for a Delicacy of Judgment, that won't admit of being easily
pleas'd: but none above the Character of wearing a peevish Man's Livery,
ought to bear with his ill Manners. All Things among Men of Sense and
Condition should pass the Censure, and have the Protection, of the Eye
of Reason.

No Man ought to be tolerated in an habitual Humour, Whim, or
Particularity of Behaviour, by any who do not wait upon him for Bread.
Next to the peevish Fellow is the Snarler. This Gentleman deals mightily
in what we call the Irony, and as those sort of People exert themselves
most against these below them, you see their Humour best, in their Talk
to their Servants. That is so like you, You are a fine Fellow, Thou art
the quickest Head-piece, and the like. One would think the Hectoring,
the Storming, the Sullen, and all the different Species and
Subordinations of the Angry should be cured, by knowing they live only
as pardoned Men; and how pityful is the Condition of being only
suffered? But I am interrupted by the pleasantest Scene of Anger and the
Disappointment of it that I have ever known, which happened while I was
yet Writing, and I overheard as I sat in the Backroom at a _French_
Bookseller's. There came into the Shop a very learned Man with an erect
Solemn Air, and tho' a Person of great Parts otherwise, slow in
understanding anything which makes against himself. The Composure of the
faulty Man, and the whimsical Perplexity of him that was justly angry,
is perfectly New: After turning over many Volumes, said the Seller to
the Buyer, _Sir, you know I have long as