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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.

        Another Random Sonnet

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