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Henry Howard - In Cypres Springes, Wheras Dame Venus Dwelt
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In Cypres springes, wheras dame Venus dwelt,  
 A well so hote that who so tastes the same,  
 Were he of stone, as thawed yse shuld melt,  
 And kindled fynde his brest with secret flame;  
 Whose moist poison dissolved hath my hate.  
 This creping fier my cold lymms so oprest  
 That in the hart that harbred fredom late  
 Endles dispaire long thraldom hath imprest.  
 One eke so cold in froson snow is found,  
 Whose chilling venume of repugnaunt kind  
 The fervent heat doth quenche of Cupides wound,  
 And with the spote of change infects the mynd;  
 Whereof my deer hath tasted to my payne.  
 My service thus is growne into disdayne.  
    
 
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 Complaint of the louer disdained   
    
 In Ciprus, springes (whereas dame Venus dwelt)  
 A well so hote, that whoso tastes the same,  
 Were he of stone, as thawed yse should melt,  
 And kindled fynde his brest with fired flame.  
 Whose moyst poyson dissolued hath my hate.  
 This creeping fire my colde lims so opprest,  
 That in the hart that harborde freedome late,  
 Endlesse despeyre longe thraldome hath imprest.  
 An other so colde in frozen yse is founde,  
 Whose chilling venom of repugnant kynde  
 The feruent heat doth quenche of Cupides wounde:  
 And with the spot of change infectes the minde:  
 Whereof my dere hath tasted, to my paine.  
 My seruice thus is growen into disdaine.
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