Sonnet 111
O! for my sake do you with Fortune chide,The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,That did not better for my life provideThan public means which public manners breeds.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,And almost thence my nature is subduedTo what it works in, like the dyer's hand:Pity me, then, and wish I were renewed;
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drinkPotions of eisell 'gainst my strong infection;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.