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William Shakespeare (1564–1616).  The Oxford Shakespeare: Poems.  1914.

Sonnet CXI.

“O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide”


O! FOR my sake do you with Fortune chide 
The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds, 
That did not better for my life provide 
Than public means which public manners breeds. 
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,         5
And almost thence my nature is subdu’d 
To what it works in, like the dyer’s hand: 
Pity me, then, and wish I were renew’d; 
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink 
Potions of eisel ’gainst my strong infection;  10
No bitterness that I will bitter think, 
Nor double penance, to correct correction. 
  Pity me, then, dear friend, and I assure ye 
  Even that your pity is enough to cure me. 


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