Sonnet 93
So shall I live, supposing thou art true,Like a deceived husband; so love's faceMay 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 historyIs writ in moods, and frowns, and wrinkles strange.
But heaven in thy creation did decreeThat 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!