[1] What potions have I drunk of Siren tears,
[2] Distill'd from limbecks foul as hell within,
[3] Applying fears to hopes and hopes to fears,
[4] Still losing when I saw myself to win!
[5] What wretched errors hath my heart committed,
[6] Whilst it hath thought itself so blessed never!
[7] How have mine eyes out of their spheres been fitted
[8] In the distraction of this madding fever!
[9] O benefit of ill! now I find true
[10] That better is by evil still made better;
[11] And ruin'd love, when it is built anew,
[12] Grows fairer than at first, more strong, far greater.
[13] So I return rebuked to my content
[14] And gain by ill thrice more than I have spent.
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