The Sonnets LXX - That thou art blamd shall not be thy defect
By William Shakespeare
That thou art blamd shall not be thy defect,
For slanders mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heavens sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater being wood of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou presentst a pure unstained prime.
Thou hast passed by the ambush of young days
Either not assaild, or victor being chargd;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy, evermore enlargd,
If some suspect of ill maskd not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.