The fatall beames thou dartest from thine Eyes
Like Basilisks work on me, in effect:
Yet from them doth my remedy arise
By glassing mine, in thine, them to reflect:
For, in mine Eyes, shouldst thou thy self but see
Thy Beames would make thee in self loue to burn:
Then, harm me not and I wil not hurt thee:
Els on thy selfe thy Beauties Beames ile turne
Thinke not because thy Hart is Adamant
That thy bright Raies wil but thereon rebound;
No, to thy selfe thei'l make thee mercy grant,
And loue that grace that hurts and heals the wound:
Then let thine Eye-beames grace infuse in mine,
Or, for thy plague, ile riuet mine in Thine.