Sonnet Lvii

William Shakespeare

     Being your slave, what should I do but tend
     Upon 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 hour
     Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,
     Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
     When you have bid your servant once adieu;
     Nor dare I question with my jealous thought
     Where 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 will,
     Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.

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