| 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, | 5 |
| 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. | 10 |
| O! what a happy title do I find, | |
| Happy to have thy love, happy to die: | |
| But what ’s so blessed-fair that fears no blot? | |
| Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not. |