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CXXI.
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteem'd,
When not
to be receives reproach of being,
And the just
pleasure lost which is so deem'd
Not by our feeling
but by others' seeing:
For why should others false
adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in
their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am
that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up
their own:
I may be straight, though they themselves
be bevel;
By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be
shown;
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All
men are bad, and in their badness reign.
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