To descend to the particular branches and varieties would be unnecessary and endless. There is a stubborn, a vindictive, a quarrelsome, a violent, a froward, a sullen, a morose kind of anger; and then we have this variety in complication too. One goes no further than words; another proceeds immediately to blows, without a word speaking; a third sort breaks out into cursing and reproachful language; and there are that content themselves with chiding and complaining. There is a conciliable anger and there is an implacable; but in what form or degree soever it appears, all anger, without exception, is vicious. CHAPTER II. THE RISE OF ANGER. The question will be here, whether _anger_ takes its rise from impulse or judgment; that is, whether it be moved of its own accord, or, as many other things are, from within us, that arise we know not how? The clearing of this point will lead us to greater matters. The _first_ motion of _anger_ is in truth involuntary, and only a kind of menacing preparation towards it. The _second_ deliberates; as who should say, “This injury should not pass without a revenge,” and there it stops. The _third_ is impotent; and, right or wrong, resolves upon vengeance. The _first motion_ is not to be avoided, nor indeed the _second_, any more than yawning for company; custom and care may lessen it, but reason itself cannot overcome it. The _third_, as it rises upon consideration, it must fall so too, for that motion which proceeds with judgment may be taken away with judgment. A man thinks himself injured, and hath a mind to be revenged, but for some reason lets it rest. This is not properly _anger_, but an _affection overruled by reason_; a kind of proposal disapproved—and what are reason and affection, but only changes of the mind for the better or for the worse? Reason deliberates before it judges; but anger passes sentence without deliberation. Reason only attends the matter in hand; but anger is startled at every accident; it passes the bounds of reason, and carries it away with it. In short, “anger is an agitation of the mind that proceeds to the resolution of a revenge, the mind assenting to it.” There is no doubt but anger is moved by the species of an injury; but whether that motion be voluntary or involuntary is the point in debate; though it seems manifest to me that _anger_ does nothing but where the mind goes along with it, for, first, to take an offence, and then to meditate a revenge, and after that to lay both propositions together, and say to myself, “This injury ought not to have been done; but as the case stands, I must do myself right.” This discourse can never proceed without the concurrence of the will.