Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
Stars, hide your fires; Let not light see my black and deep desires. The eye wink at the hand, yet let that be (55) Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
Because it is a customary cross, As die to love as thoughts, and dreams, and sighs, Wishes, and tears, poor fancy's followers.
In time we hate that which we often fear.
For what I will, I will, and there an end.
A raven's heart within a dove.