Shake-speares Sonnets, Never before Imprinted/Sonnet 92
For other versions of this work, see Sonnet 92 (Shakespeare).
92Bvt doe thy worst to steale-thy selfe away,For tearme of life thou art assured mine,And life no longer then thy loue will stay,For it depends vpon that loue of thine.Then need I not to feare the worst of wrongs,When in the least of them my life hath end,I see, a better state to me belongsThen that, which on thy humor doth depend.Thou canst not vex me with inconstant minde,Since that my life on thy reuolt doth lie,Oh what a happy title do I finde,Happy to haue thy loue, happy to die!But whats so blessed faire that feares no blot,Thou maist be falce, and yet I know it not.