Act I, Scene 70

---

• Shakespeare. That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
  For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
  The ornament of beauty is suspect,
  A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air. 970
  So thou be good, slander doth but approve
  Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
  For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
  And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
  Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days, 975
  Either not assail'd or victor being charged;
  Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
  To tie up envy evermore enlarged:
  If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,
  Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe. 980