Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness,Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport,Both grace and faults are loved of more and less:
Thou mak'st faults graces, that to thee resort:
As on the finger of a throned queen,The basest jewel will be well esteemed:
So are those errors that in thee are seen,To truths translated, and for true things deemed.
How many lambs might the stern wolf betray,If like a lamb he could his looks translate!
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,if thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!
But do not so, I love thee in such sort,As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.
