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.