1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 121 

1	’Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
2	When not to be receives reproach of being,
3	And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
4	Not by our feeling but by others’ seeing.
5	For why should others’ false adulterate eyes
6	Give salutation to my sportive blood?
7	Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
8	Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
9	No, I am that I am, and they that level
10	At my abuses reckon up their own.
11	I may be straight, though they themselves be bevel#
12	By their rank thoughts my deeds must not be shown,
13	Unless this general evil they maintain:
14	All men are bad and in their badness reign.