Gods, gods! 'tis strange that from their cold'st neglect
My love should kindle to inflamed respect.

“I have almost forgotten the taste of fears: The time has been, my senses would …”

“For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds; Lillies that fester smell far …”

“Thou art a boil, a plague sore, an embossed carbuncle in my corrupted blood.”

“They met so near with their lips that their breaths embraced together.”