Sonnet CLIV

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The little Love-god lying once asleep

Laid by his side his heart-inflaming brand,

Whilst many nymphs that vowed 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 warmed ;

And so the general of hot desire

Was, sleeping, by a virgin hand disarmed.

This brand she quenched in a cool well by,

Which from Love’s fire took heart 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.