I must no more believe thee in this point
Than I will trust a sickly appetite,
That loathes even as it longs.[372]
Massinger in A Very Woman has:
No more of Love, good father,
It was my surfeit, and I loathe it now,
As men in fevers meat they fall sick on.[373]
The simile is a part of ordinary experience and literary convention. You might as well argue that Massinger wrote Euphues.
The jailer's daughter leaves the scene with this remark:
It is a holiday to look on them; Lord, the difference of men.[374]