Sonnet 92

But do thy worst to steal thyself away,

For term of life thou art assurèd 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 humour 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!

But what’s so blessèd-fair that fears no blot?

Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.

Feel free to take your love away.

For my whole life it must be mine,

Since life won’t stay if love won’t stay,

As love is life’s only design.

There’s no worst case for me to fear.

The slightest turn from you would kill.

My place is perfect here

If love remains your will,

With not one worry about your faith,

Since if that’s lost, I’ll die.

Happy in love or happy in death,

There’s no way to go awry.

But something’s off in this portrayal.

What if you conceal betrayal?