" Those lips that Love's own hand did make
 Breathed forth the sound that said 'I hate'
 To me that languish'd for her sake;
 But when she saw my woeful state,
 Straight in her heart did mercy come, 5
 Chiding that tongue that ever sweet
 Was used in giving gentle doom,
 And taught it thus anew to greet:
 'I hate' she alter'd with an end,
 That follow'd it as gentle day 10
 Doth follow night, who like a fiend
 From heaven to hell is flown away;
     'I hate' from hate away she threw,
     And saved my life, saying 'not you.' " 
                    - William Shakespeare;     Sonnet CXLV