Prescanned Shakespeare.com
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No more | be grieved | at that | which thou |
hast done:
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Roses | have* thorns,| and silv|er fount|ains mud:
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Clouds and | eclip|ses stain | both moon and
sun,
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And loath|some cank|er lives | in sweet|est bud.
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All men make | faults, and | even I | in this,
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Author|izing | thy* tres|pass* with | compare,
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Myself | corrupt|ing salv|ing thy | amiss,
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Excus|ing thy / sins more | than thy / sins are:
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For to | thy sen|sual fault | I bring | in sense,
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Thy ad|verse part|y is | thy ad|vocate,
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And 'gainst | myself | a law|ful plea | commence:
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Such civil war | is in | my love | and hate,
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That I | an acces|sory | needs must be,
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To that sweet thief | which sour|ly robs | from
me.