Such strange effects wrought by thought wounding Cupid
In changing me to fish, his bates to swallow
With poyson choaking me, vnlesse that you bid
Him to my stomacke giue some Antidote:
Fly litle god with winges of swallow,
Or if thy feathers fast floate,
That Antidote from mine harts empresse bring,
My feeble sences to reuiue:
Least, if thou waue it with an Eagles winge
To late thou come, and finde me not aliue.