Sonnet 35
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No more be griev\'d at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud,
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy trespass with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense\\u2014
Thy adverse party is thy advocate\\u2014
And \'gainst myself a lawful plea commence.
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
\\xa0 \\xa0 That I an accessary needs must be
\\xa0 \\xa0 To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
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