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.