" No more bee greev'd at that which thou has done,
Roses have thornes, and silver fountaines mud,
Cloudes and eclispes staine both Moone and Sunne,
And loathsome cranker lives im sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespas with compare,
My selfe corrupting salving thy amisse,
Excusing their sins more then their sins are:
For thy sensuall fault I bring in sence,
Thy adverse party is thy Advocate,
And gain my selfe a lawfull plea commence,
Such civill war is in my love and hate,
That I accessary needs must be,
To that sweet theefe which sourely robs from me,"
~ The Sonnets of Willian Shakespeare; page 35
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