My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
Th' uncertain sickly appetite to please.
My reason, the physician to my love,
Angry that his prescriptions are not kept,
Hath left me, and I desperate now approve
Desire is death, which physic did except.
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic mad with evermore unrest;
My thoughts and my discourse as madmen's are,
At randon from the truth vainly express'd;
    For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
    Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Rss Apple Podcaster
Podden och tillhörande omslagsbild på den här sidan tillhör Ehren Ziegler: Actor, Artist, Shakespeare enthusiast. Innehållet i podden är skapat av Ehren Ziegler: Actor, Artist, Shakespeare enthusiast och inte av, eller tillsammans med, Poddtoppen.