1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 111 

1	O, for my sake do you with fortune chide,
2	The guilty goddess of my harmful deeds,
3	That did not better for my life provide
4	Than public means which public manners breeds.
5	Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
6	And almost thence my nature is subdued
7	To what it works in, like the dyer’s hand.
8	Pity me then, and wish I were renewed,
9	Whilst like a willing patient I will drink
10	Potions of eisel ’gainst my strong infection#
11	No bitterness that I will bitter think,
12	Nor double penance to correct correction.
13	Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
14	Even that your pity is enough to cure me.