That thou art blam’d 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.
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 passed by the ambush of young days
Either not assail’d, or victor being charg’d;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy, evermore enlarg’d,
If some suspect of ill mask’d not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.
In plain English
Don't let gossip about you feel like a flaw. Beautiful people have always been targets for rumor—it's the price of being lovely. If you stay virtuous, slander actually proves your worth is real, because it shows you're worth attacking. Vice always goes after the most beautiful things.
You've made it through your youth without being corrupted, whether you faced temptation head-on or simply escaped it. But here's the catch: even that clean record can't stop people from envying you. In fact, envy just keeps growing.
If there weren't at least some whisper of scandal around you—even a false one—you'd be so flawless that everyone would worship you completely. A tiny bit of doubt is what lets you stay human instead of becoming a god.
