Whither? say, whither shall I fly,
To slack these flames wherein I fry?
To the treasures shall I go
Of the rain, frost, hail, and snow?
Shall I search the underground,
Where all damps and mists are found?
Shall I seek (for speedy ease)
All the floods and frozen seas?
Or descend into the deep,
Where eternal cold does keep?
These may cool, but there's a zone
Colder yet than any one:
That's my Julia's breast, where dwells
Such destructive icicles
As that the congelation will
Me sooner starve than those can kill.