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