human
No wound which warlike hand of enemy Inflicts with dint of sword, so sore doth light As doth the poisonous sting which infamy Infixeth in the name of noble wight; For by no art, nor any leeches' might, It ever can re-curéd be again.
gpt
Who steals my purse steals trash; 'tis something, nothing; 'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to thousands: But he who filches from me my good name Robs me of that which not enriches him, And makes me poor indeed.