Sonnet 121

1 ’Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
2 When not to be, receives reproach of being,
3 And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed,
4 Not by our feeling, but by others’ seeing.
5 For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
6 Give salutation to my sportive blood?
7 Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
8 Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
9 No, I am that I am, and they that level
10 At my abuses, reckon up their own,
11 I may be straight though they themselves be bevel;
12 By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown
13 Unless this general evil they maintain,
14 All men are bad and in their badness reign.