(Shakespeare)
Some say thy fault is youth, some wantonness
Some say thy grace is youth and gentle sport
Both grace and faults are lov'd 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 esteem'd
So are those errors that in thee are seen
To truths translated, and for true things deem'd
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