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<HTML><HEAD><TITLE>Sonnet CXXIV</TITLE></HEAD>
<BODY><H1>Sonnet CXXIV</H1>
<BLOCKQUOTE>If my dear love were but the child of state,<BR>
It might for Fortune's bastard be unfather'd'<BR>
As subject to Time's love or to Time's hate,<BR>
Weeds among weeds, or flowers with flowers gather'd.<BR>
No, it was builded far from accident;<BR>
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls<BR>
Under the blow of thralled discontent,<BR>
Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls:<BR>
It fears not policy, that heretic,<BR>
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,<BR>
But all alone stands hugely politic,<BR>
That it nor grows with heat nor drowns with showers.<BR>
To this I witness call the fools of time,<BR>
Which die for goodness, who have lived for crime.<BR>
</BLOCKQUOTE>
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