Shakespeare Sonnet 57

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Being your slave, what should I do but tend

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Upon the hours and times of your desire?

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I have no precious time* at all to spend,

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Nor services to do, till you require.

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Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour

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Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,

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Nor think the bitterness of absence sour

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When you have bid your servant once adieu;

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Nor dare I question with my jealous thought

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Where you may be, or your affairs suppose,

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But, like a sad slave, stay and think of nought

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Save, where you are how happy you make those.

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So true a fool is love that in your will,

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Though you do any thing, he thinks no ill.