William Shakespeare



                   Sonnet 57


                   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 anything, he thinks no ill.


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