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