Grim death, how foul and loathsome is thine image!
And then with kind embracements, tempting kisses, And with declining head into his bosom, Bid him shed tears, as being overjoy’d To see her noble lord restor’d to health, Who for this seven years hath esteemed him No better than a poor and loathsome beggar.
There are no more uses of "loathe" in the play.
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I make New Year’s resolutions every year and then loathe myself for breaking them.