Shakespeare




Sonnet 118

Like as, to make our appetite more keen, 
With eager compounds we our palate urge;
As, to prevent our maladies unseen,
We sicken to shun sickness when we purge -

Even so, being full of your ne'er-cloying sweetness,
To bitter sauces did I frame my feeding;
And, sick of welfare, found a kind of meetness
To be diseased ere that there was true needing.

Thus policy in love, t'anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assur'd,
And brought to medicine a healthful state
Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cur'd.

But thence I learn and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.