Sonnet 35

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