No more be grieved 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,Authorising 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 -Thy adverse party is thy advocate -And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:Such civil war is in my love and hate,That I an accessory needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
Shakespeare - Sonetto 35
No more be grieved 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,Authorising 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 -Thy adverse party is thy advocate -And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:Such civil war is in my love and hate,That I an accessory needs must be To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.