Sonnet CXXIV
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If my dear love were but the child of state, | 1
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd' | 2
As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate, | 3
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd. | 4
No, it was builded far from accident; | 5
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls | 6
Under the blow of thralled discontent, | 7
Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls: | 8
It fears not policy, that heretic, | 9
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours, | 10
But all alone stands hugely politic, | 11
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers. | 12
To this I witness call the fools of time, | 13
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime. | 14
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