1 Like as to make our appetites more keen,
2 With eager compounds we our palate urge,
3 As to prevent our maladies unseen,
4 We sicken to shun sickness when we purge,
5 Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,
6 To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding,
7 And sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
8 To be diseas'd ere that there was true needing.
9 Thus policy in love, t'anticipate
10 The ills that were not, grew to faults assured
11 And brought to medicine a healthful state
12 Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured:
13 But thence I learn, and find the lesson true,
14 Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.