1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 147 

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 random from the truth vainly expressed#
13	For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,
14	Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.