Act I, Scene 35

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• Shakespeare. 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. 480
  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— 485
  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 accessary needs must be
  To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me. 490