Though I Am Young, And Cannot Tell, Either What Love, Or Death Is Well, Yet I Have Heard, Yet Both Bear Darts, And Both Do Aim At Human Hearts: And Then Again, I Have Been Told Love Wounds With Heat, As Death With Cold; So That I Fear, They Do But Bring Extremes To Touch, And Mean One Thing. As In A Ruin, We It Call One Thing To Be Blown Up, Or Fall; Or To Our End, Like Way May Have, By A Flash Of Lightning, Or A Wave: So Love'S Inflamed Shaft, Or Brand, May Kill As Soon As Death'S Cold Hand; Except Love'S Fires The Virtue Have To Fright The Frost From Out The Grave.