Sonnet CXI
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O, for my sake do you with Fortune chide, | 1
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, | 2
That did not better for my life provide | 3
Than public means which public manners breeds. | 4
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand, | 5
And almost thence my nature is subdued | 6
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand: | 7
Pity me then and wish I were renew'd; | 8
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink | 9
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection | 10
No bitterness that I will bitter think, | 11
Nor double penance, to correct correction. | 12
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye | 13
Even that your pity is enough to cure me. | 14
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