Sweets grown common lose their dear delight.
 William Shakespeare, Shakespeare's Sonnets (1609). copy citation


“As Philomel in summer's front doth sing, And stops her pipe in growth of riper days: Not that the summer is less pleasant now Than when her mournful hymns did hush the night, But that wild music burthens every bough, And sweets grown common lose their dear delight. Therefore like her, I sometime hold my tongue: Because I would not dull you with my song. CIII Alack! what poverty my Muse brings forth,
That having such a scope to show her pride, The argument, all bare, is of more worth” source

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