Shakespeare's Sonnet 69

Those parts of thee that the world’s eye doth viewWant nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown’d;But those same tongues, that give thee so thine own,In other accents do this praise confoundBy seeing farther than the eye hath shown.They look into the beauty of thy mind,And that in guess they measure by thy deeds;Then churls their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,The soil is this, that thou dost common grow.

The parts of you that the world can see
Lack nothing that anyone could imagine improving.
Every tongue, speaking for the soul, gives you that credit,
Stating the simple truth, as even enemies do when they praise you.
So your outward beauty is crowned with public praise.
But those same tongues that give you what you deserve
Speak in a different tone and undo that praise
By looking beyond what the eye can see.
They examine the beauty of your mind,
And judge it, as best they can, by your actions.
Then their thoughts turn harsh, though their eyes were kind,
Adding the foul smell of weeds to your lovely flower.
But why does your scent not match your appearance?
The trouble lies in your soil: you grow where everyone has access.