[SANCHEZ45]

With ugly rack* on his celestial face,
And from the forlorn world his visage hide,

That to my use it might unused stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
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Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:

Nor double penance, to correct correction.
Pity me then, dear friend, and I assure ye
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Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level