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Sonnet CXIX
What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
1
Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,
2
Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears,
3
Still losing when I saw myself to win!
4
What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
5
Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
6
How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
7
In the distraction of this madding fever!
8
O benefit of ill! now I find true
9
That better is by evil still made better;
10
And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
11
Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
12
So I return rebuked to my content
13
And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
14