Revenge is a kind of wild justice, which the more man’s nature runs
to, the more ought law to weed it out; for as for the first wrong, it
doth but offend the law, but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the
law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even
with his enemy, but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a
prince’s part to pardon; and Solomon, I am sure, saith, “It is the
glory of a man to pass by an offence.” That which is past is gone and
irrevocable, and wise men have enough to do with things present and
to come; therefore they do but trifle with themselves that labor in
past matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong’s sake, but
thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like;
therefore, why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better
than me? And if any man should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why,
yet it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because
they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge is for those
wrongs which there is no law to remedy; but then, let a man take heed
the revenge be such as there is no law to punish, else a man’s enemy is
still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge,
are desirous the party should know whence it cometh. This is the more
generous; for the delight seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt
as in making the party repent; but base and crafty cowards are like
the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus, Duke of Florence,[87] had
a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if
those wrongs were unpardonable. “You shall read,” saith he, “that we
are commanded to forgive our enemies; but you never read that we are
commanded to forgive our friends.” But yet the spirit of Job was in a
better tune: “Shall we,” saith he, “take good at God’s hands, and not
be content to take evil also?”[88] and so of friends in a proportion.
This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds
green, which otherwise would heal and do well. Public revenges[89]
are for the most part fortunate; as that for the death of Cæsar;[90]
for the death of Pertinax; for the death of Henry the Third of
France;[91] and many more. But in private revenges it is not so; nay,
rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches, who, as they are
mischievous, so end they unfortunate.