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.