1593-1603 by Shakespeare 
Sonnet 92 

1	But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
2	For term of life thou art assurèd mine,
3	And life no longer than thy love will stay,
4	For it depends upon that love of thine.
5	Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs
6	When in the least of them my life hath end.
7	I see a better state to me belongs
8	Than that which on thy humour doth depend.
9	Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
10	Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
11	O, what a happy title do I find 
12	Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
13	But what’s so blessèd fair that fears no blot?
14	Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.