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01-07-2009, 03:10 AM
Sonnet #118

CXVIII.br /br /Like as, to make our appetites more keen,br /With eager compounds we our palate urge,br /As, to prevent our maladies unseen,br /We sicken to shun sickness when we purge,br /Even so, being tuff of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,br /To bitter sauces did I frame my feedingbr /And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetnessbr /To be diseased ere that there was true needing.br /Thus policy in love, to anticipatebr /The ills that were not, grew to faults assuredbr /And brought to medicine a healthful statebr /Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cured:br /But thence I learn, and find the lesson true,br /Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.

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