Shakespeare is happy to forgive his lover having an affair in this sonnet. Fair play to him.

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Sonnet 57
Being your slave, what should I do but tendUpon the hours and times of your desire?I have no precious time at all to spend,Nor services to do, till you require.Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hourWhilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you.Nor think the bitterness of absence sourWhen you have bid your servant once adieu;Nor dare I question with my jealous thoughtWhere you may be, or your affairs suppose,But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought,Save, where you are how happy you make those.So true a fool is love that in your willThough you do anything, he thinks no ill.

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