Sonnet 93
So shall I live, supposing thou art
true
«William Shakespeare»
So shall I live, supposing thou art true,
Like a deceived
husband, so love's face,
May still seem love
to me, though altered new:
Thy looks with me,
thy heart in other place.
For there can live no
hatred in thine eye,
Therefore in that I
cannot know thy change,
In many's looks, the
false heart's history
Is writ in moods and
frowns and wrinkles strange.
But heaven in thy
creation did decree,
That in thy face
sweet love should ever dwell,
Whate'er thy
thoughts, or thy heart's workings be,
Thy looks should
nothing thence, but sweetness tell.
How like Eve's apple
doth thy beauty grow,
If thy sweet virtue
answer not thy show.
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