My love is as a fever, longing still
For that which longer nurseth the disease,
Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,
The uncertain sickly appetite to please.
······
Past cure I am, now reason is past care,
And frantic mad with evermore unrest,
My thoughts and my discourse as madman's are,
(Sonnet cxlvii.)
with Catullus, lxxvi.