Sonnet Cliv

William Shakespeare

     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.

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