But do thy worst to steal thy self away, <br />For term of life thou art assurèd mine, <br />And life no longer than thy love will stay, <br />For it depends upon that love of thine. <br />Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs, <br />When in the least of them my life hath end; <br />I see a better state to me belongs <br />Than that, which on thy humour doth depend. <br />Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind, <br />Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie. <br />O, what a happy title do I find, <br />Happy to have thy love, happy to die! <br /> But what's so blessèd-fair that fears no blot? <br /> Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-92-but-do-thy-worst-to-steal-thy-self-awa/
