Nor kindly help its climbing, if it hope, and be ambitious?
Should the nightingale account it worth her pains to vindicate her music,
Before some sorry finches, that affect to judge of song?
No: many an injustice, many a sneer, and slur,
Is passed aside with noble scorn by lovers of true fame:
For well they wot that glory shall be tinctured good or evil,
By the character of those who give it, as wine is flavoured by the wineskin:
So that worthy fame floweth only from a worthy fountain,
But from an ill-conditioned troop the best report is worthless.
And if the sensibility of genius count his injuries in secret,