The Sonnets

So shall I live, supposing thou art true,

Like a deceived husband; so loveʼs face

May still seem love to me, though alterʼd 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 manyʼs looks, the false heartʼs 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;

Whateʼer thy thoughts, or thy heartʼs workings be,

Thy looks should nothing thence, but sweetness tell.

How like Eveʼs apple doth thy beauty grow,

If thy sweet virtue answer not thy show!