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.
View all
Shakespeare's Sonnets:
