IF love, wherein I burn, were but a fire;
I quenched it had, with water of my plaints:
If water, these my Plaints; I this desire
Had dried through inward heat, my heart that taints.
But LOVE, that in my griefs doth take delight,
Both fire and water turns, to work me spite.
Fly then, this LOVE! since such is his great power
As waves to fire, and fire to waves, he turns:
And with an absent Beauty, every hour,
My fainting heart with Fancy's fuel burns;
And, 'gainst all sense, makes me, of CARe and IL
More than of good and comfoRT, to have will.