Can One Desire Too Much Of A

It Is A Basilisk Unto Mine Eye, Kills Me To Look On't.

Lawn As White As Driven Snow; Cyprus Black As E'er Was Crow; Gloves As Sweet As Damask Roses.

When The Sea Was Calm All Ships Alike Showed Mastership In Floating.

Polonius: Do You Know Me, My Lord? Hamlet: Excellent Well. You Are A Fishmonger.

She Moves Me Not, Or Not Removes At Least Affection's Edge In Me.