The likeness passed away, say, like a breath along the surface of the gaunt pier-glass behind her, on the frame of which, a hospital procession of negro cupids, several headless and all cripples, were offering black baskets of Dead Sea fruit to black divinities of the feminine gender …
—Charles Dickens,
A Tale of Two Cities
TROILUS: Fear me not, my lord;
I will not be myself, nor have cognition
Of what I feel.
—William Shakespeare,
Troilus and Cressida