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,
But heav'n in thy creation did decree
That 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.
(Continuing from Sonnet 92) In that case, I’ll live like a deceived husband, assuming you’re faithful. Then your face will still show that you love me, even though you don’t—your looks will stay the same, but your heart will be somewhere else. As your face could never have a hateful expression, I couldn’t ever know a change of heart from looking at it. Many people express their unfaithfulness in their faces—in moody looks and frowns and strange wrinkles. But when heaven created you, it decided that your face would always express sweet love. Whatever your thoughts or desires, your looks never express anything but sweetness. In fact, your beauty becomes much like Eve’s apple when you’re not as sweet and virtuous as you look.