Indeed indeed,
I cannot tell,
Though I ponder on it well,
Which were easier to state,
All my love or all my hate.
Surely, surely, thou wilt trust me When I say thou dost disgust me.
O,
I hate thee with a hate That would fain annihilate;
Yet sometimes against my will,
My dear friend,
I love thee still.
It were treason to our love,
And a sin to God above,
One iota to abate Of a pure impartial hate.