Of Hate.
Satyre 3.
Bvt I have rouz'd another here as bad,
They call it Hate; a worse I never had
Before in chase: I scarce can keep (in sooth)
My selfe from danger of his venom'd tooth.
This is the Passion that doth use to move
The minde a clean contrarie way to Love.
It is an inspiration of the Devill,
That makes men long for one anothers evill.
It cankers in the heart, and plagueth most,
Not him that's hated, but the hatefull host.
And yet there's too too many I do know,
Whose hearts with this foule poyson over-flow:
Of which I have a true intelligence,
By the sharp scoffes and slanders springing thence:
But, where it rules, they cannot well conceale it,
But either words, or deeds, or both reveale it.
Were it just causes that did still ingender.
This passion in them; or if they could render
A reason for't, 'twere somewhat. But their will
Carries them on in spight of reason still.
These are their humours. For a slight offence
They'l hate th' offender for a recompence.
Some malice all that any way excell,
Although they know it farre from doing well.
And many have abhorred (God amend them)
The Stranger that did never yet offend them:
Which they are not ashamed to confesse,
Yet in their hate continue neere the lesse.
But though that they can yeeld no reason why
They beare them causelesse malice, yet can I.
Their hearts are ill, and it is seldome known,
That a sweet brook from bitter springs hath flown.
Ther's some too, when they see a man respected,
Though they are nothing by that means neglected,
They inly grudge, and outwardly disdain,
Being alike condition'd as was Cain.
Some hate their friends that love and count them dear,
As by the sequell plainly shall appeare;
One that a seeming friendship had profest me,
Vpon a time did earnestly request me,
That I would plainly my opinion shew,
What I of his conditions thought or knew:
And that I would without exceptions tell
What things in him did not become him well.
I scorning flattery, with a single heart,
'Twixt him and me my minde did soon impart;
And as a friend that is unfeigned, ought,
Left nothing unreveal'd of that I thought:
Yea, without soothing, him I reprehended,
If I perceiv'd hee any way offended;
Provided alwaies that I did not swerve
From a decorum fitting to observe.
But mark Mans nature: he perceiving I
Had taken note of some infirmity
He would not have unript; And seeing I
Saw more than he wisht any man should spie
Of his ill humours; (though I must confesse
Being my friend, I lov'd him nothing lesse:)
In stead of thanks and liking for my pains,
My company and sight he now refrains;
And for my kindnesse, like a thanklesse mate,
Doth ill repay me with a loathing hate.
This one I know, and by that one I finde,
That there be many beare as bad a minde.
But let us for their true conversion pray;
For never Age could this more justly say,
Truth hatred gets (she of such gain is sped)
While Love and Charity to heaven are fled.
Againe, the wicked hate beyond all measure
The righteous man that contradicts their pleasure;
And that's the fundamentall cause I know,
That many men doe hate their teachers so.
These common humours are observ'd of few,
Yet may a young experience finde them true;
And boldly say, that all in whom th' are found
Have poysoned hearts, polluted and unsound.
Yet they are more corrupt than all the rest,
Who hate their friends they should account of best.
But, let Men strive and study to remove
This Passion from their hearts, and graft on Love.
Let them not harbour such a hellish sinne;
Which being entred marreth all within.
Nor let them think my counsell merits laughter,
Sith Scripture saies, To hate our brother's slaughter.
