You want somebody you don't have to speak to

Whilst my physicians by their love are grown 
     Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie 
   Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown 
     That this is my southwest discovery,
     PER FRETUM FEBRIS, by these straits to die,

   I joy that in these straits I see my west; 
     For though their currents yield return to none, 
   What shall my west hurt me?