Richard II (excerpts): Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand

Oh, who can hold a fire in his handBy thinking on the frosty Caucasus?Or cloy the hungry edge of appetiteBy bare imagination of a feast?Or wallow naked in December snowBy thinking on fantastic summer's heat?Oh no, the apprehension of the goodGives but the greater feeling to the worse;Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle moreThan when it bites but lanceth not the sore.