Sonnet 154

The little Love-God lying once asleepe,

Laid by his side his heart inflaming brand,

Whilst many Nymphes that vou'd chast life to keep

Came tripping by, but in her maiden hand,

The fayrest votary tooke up that fire,

Which many Legions of true hearts had warm'd,

And so the Generall of hot desire,

Was sleeping by a Virgin hand disarm'd.

This brand she quenched in a coole Well by,

Which from loves fire tooke heat perpetuall,

Growing a bath and healthfull remedy,

For men diseasd, but I, my Mistresse thrall,

Came there for cure and this by that I prove,

Loves fire heates water, water cools not love.