Sonnet XXXV

No more be grieved at that which thou hast done:	1
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud;	2
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,	3
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.	4
All men make faults, and even I in this,	5
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,	6
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,	7
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;	8
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense--	9
Thy adverse party is thy advocate--	10
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:	11
Such civil war is in my love and hate	12
That I an accessary needs must be	13
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.	14