Sonnet 70

　　That thou are 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.

　　So thou be good，slander doth but approve

　　Thy worth the greater，being wooed 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 assailed，or v