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