When a weak child is sick and out of quiet

When a weak child is sick and out of quiet,
And for his tenderness cannot sustain
Physic of equal strength unto his pain,
Physicians to the nurse prescribe a diet.
Oh I am sick, and in my sickness weak,
And through my weakness dead, if I but take
The pleasantest receipt that art can make,
Or if I hear but my physician speak.
But, ah! fair god of physic, it may be,
But physic to my nurse would me recover.
She whom I love with beauty nurseth me,
But with a bitter mixture kills her lover:
Yet I assure myself I should not die,
If she were purged of her cruelty.