Changde is my nature in me, where before
I like was to a chilly freesing ice:
I now a flame am, burning inward sore,
And such a flame that burneth in such wise,
That if Love and my Mistresse take no care
For this my hurt, my soule must quickely die,
Yet one doth see (for both not blinded are)
The fier so hote doth burne wherein I frie,
That fierce Perillus boyling Bull of brasse
May unto this for icie substance passe.