If my dear love were but the child of state...
Sonnet 124If my dear love were but the child of state,
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. No, it was builded far from accident; It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls Under the blow of thralled discontent, Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: It fears not policy, that heretic, Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, But all alone stands hugely politic, That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. To this I witness call the fools of time, Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. |
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Were my
love for you based on superficial factors, it might be unseated by the vagaries
of life and changing circumstances. But it isn’t. It isn’t touched by whether
it’s popular and it’s not P.C.-of-the-hour. My love for you is independent and
a law to itself, not affected either way by praise or condemnation.
In proof of this, look at all those pathetic people who expediently ‘repent’ at the last minute on their deathbeds, having lived a life of sin.
In proof of this, look at all those pathetic people who expediently ‘repent’ at the last minute on their deathbeds, having lived a life of sin.