I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

I hate the man who builds his name on the ruins of another's fame.

There are . . . robberies that leave man or woman forever
beggared of peace and joy, yet kept read more

There are . . . robberies that leave man or woman forever
beggared of peace and joy, yet kept secret by the sufferer.

If slander be a snake, it is a winged one--it flies as well as
creeps.

If slander be a snake, it is a winged one--it flies as well as
creeps.

I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which read more

I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear,
The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.

No, 'tis slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of read more

No, 'tis slander,
Whose edge is sharper than the sword, whose tongue
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile, whose breath
Rides on the posting winds and doth belie
All corners of the world. Kings, queens. and states,
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the grave
This viperous slander enters.

I will be hanged if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, read more

I will be hanged if some eternal villain,
Some busy and insinuating rogue,
Some cogging, cozening slave, to get some office,
Have not devised this slander.

Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies.

Done to death by slanderous tongues
Was the Hero that here lies.

Your tittle-tattlers, and those who listen to slander, by my good
will should all be hanged--the former by their read more

Your tittle-tattlers, and those who listen to slander, by my good
will should all be hanged--the former by their tongues, the
latter by the ears.
[Lat., Homines qui gestant, quique auscultant crimina,
Si meo arbitratu liceat, omnes pendeant,
Gestores linguis, auditores auribus.]

That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
read more

That thou art 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.