Complaint of the Lover disdained

IN Cyprus springs, whereas Dame Venus dwelt,

A well so hot, that whoso tastes the same,

Were he of stone, as thawed ice should melt,

And kindled find his breast with fixed flame;

Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate.

This creeping fire my cold limbs so opprest,

That in the heart that harbour’d freedom, late:

Endless despair long thraldom hath imprest.

Another so cold in frozen ice is found,

Whose chilling venom of repugnant kind,

The fervent heat doth quench of Cupid’s wound,

And with the spot of change infects the mind;

Whereof my dear hath tasted to my pain:

My service thus is grown into disdain.