Sonnet 93. So shall I live, supposing thou art true

So shall I live, supposing thou art true

Like a deceived husband, so love's face

May 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 history

Is writ in moods and frowns and wrinkles strange.