Such is the course that nature’s kind hath wrought

Such is the course that nature’s kind hath wrought
That snakes have time to cast away their stings:
Against chain’d prisoners what need defence be sought?
The fierce lion will hurt no yielden things:
Why shoul such spite be nursed then by thought?
Sith all these powers are prest under thy wings;
And eke thou seest, and reason thee hath taught,
What mischief malice many ways it brings:
Consider eke, that spite availeth nought.
Therefore this song thy faul to thee it sings:
Displease thee not, for saying thus my thought,
Nor hate thou him from whom no hate forth springs:
For furies that in hell be execrable,
For that they hate, are made most miserable.

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