Sonnet 118. Like as to make our appetite more keen

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.