Sonnet 92
b"
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine,
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end;
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humor doth depend.
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie;
O, what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.