Sonnet CXXVI:
If in the liking of thine eye to live,
To shift my colors as thy fancies change,
To school my manners to the ordered range
Thy nicer taste may hold it best to give;
If to be merry, sorry, laugh or grieve,
And think the instant passion no way strange,
So I my coarser instincts may exchange
For thy refinements, by thy gracious leave;
If to dispose my future by thy will,
To be so wholly thine that every need
Which frets my nature follows on thy lead;
If only thus I judge 'twixt good and ill,
And scorn the lot which other men fulfill—
If this be love, why then I love indeed.
