Sonnet 92
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
love
mortality
loss
self-deception
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,
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 blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
What It Means
Do your worst — you can take yourself away, but you can't make me unhappy while I have you. And you will have me: my life ends when your love does. The idea that I might lose your love but keep living is the only thought that actually frightens me. So I'm safe — either you love me, or I'm dead. The logic is tight, but the final couplet opens a crack: what if you're deceiving me and I'm too besotted to know?
Context
Part of the Fair Youth sequence, continuing the group about anticipated loss.
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