Sonnet 142, by NY Shakespeare Exchange

Love is my sin and thy dear virtue hate,
Hate of my sin, grounded on sinful loving:
O, but with mine compare thou thine own state,
And thou shalt find it merits not reproving;
Or, if it do, not from those lips of thine,
That have profaned their scarlet ornaments
And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine,
Robb'd others' beds' revenues of their rents.
Be it lawful I love thee, as thou lovest those
Whom thine eyes woo as mine importune thee:
Root pity in thy heart, that when it grows
Thy pity may deserve to pitied be.
     If thou dost seek to have what thou dost hide,
     By self-example mayst thou be denied!

Sonnet 142, from The Sonnet Project, by the New York Shakespeare Exchange.

Well-dramatized, well-scored.  A sinister, foreboding air.  So much so we just feel in our bones that this love interest will simply fester further, twist in dark alleys.  We feel in our bones that it is not going to end well in the least.