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, 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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