- 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 fairest votary took up that fire
- Which many 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 perpetual,
- Growing a bath and healthful remedy,
- For men diseased; but I, my mistress’ thrall,
- Came there for cure and this by that I prove,
- Love’s fire heats water, water cools not love.