Sonnet 153

Cupid laid by his brand and fell a sleepe,

A maide of Dyans this advantage found,

And his love-kindling fire did quickly steepe

In a could vallie-fountaine of that ground:

Which borrowd from this holie fire of love,

A datelesse lively heat still to indure,

And grew a seething bath which yet men prove,

Against strang maladies a soveraigne cure:

But at my mistres eie loves brand new fired,

The boy for triall needes would touch my brest,

I sick withall the helpe of bath desired,

And thether hied a sad distempered guest.

But found no cure, the bath for my helpe lies,

Where Cupid got new fire; my mistres eye.