1 That thou art blam'd shall not be thy defect,
2 For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
3 The ornament of beauty is suspect,
4 A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
5 So thou be good, slander doth but approve
6 Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
7 For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
8 And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
9 Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days,
10 Either not assail'd or victor being charg'd;
11 Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
12 To tie up envy evermore enlarg'd:
13 If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,
14 Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.