Sonnet 95
b"
How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which like a canker in the fragrant rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose!
That tongue that tells the story of thy days
(Making lascivious comments on thy sport)
Cannot dispraise but in a kind of praise,
Naming thy name blesses an ill report.
O, what a mansion have those vices got
Which for their habitation chose out thee,
Where beauty's veil doth cover every blot,
And all things turns to fair that eyes can see!
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0Take heed, dear heart, of this large privilege,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0The hardest knife ill us'd doth lose his edge.