William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

Sonnet LVII.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend”

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,    5
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,   10
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 anything, he thinks no ill.