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SONNET CLIV
The little love-god lying
once asleep,
Laid by his side his
heart-inflaming brand,
Whilst many nymphs that
vow'd chaste life to keep,
Came tripping by; but
in her maiden hand
The firest votary took
up that fire
Which may legions of
true hearts had warm'd;
And so the general of
hot desire
Was sleeping by a virgin
hand disarm'd.
This brand she quenched
in a cool well by,
Which from love's fire
took heat perpetural,
Growing a bath and healthful
remedy
For men disea'd; but
I, my mistress' thrall,
Came there for cure, and this by that I prove,
Love's fire heats water, water cools not love.