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.
Since I’m your slave, what else should I do but wait on the hours, and for the times when you’ll want me? I don’t have any valuable time to spend, or any services to do, until you need me. Nor do I dare complain about how agonizingly long the hours are while I watch the clock for you, my king, or how bitter your absence is after you’ve said goodbye to your servant. Nor do I dare ask jealous questions about where you might be, or speculate about your affairs, but like a sad slave I sit still and think about nothing except how happy you’re making whomever you’re with. Love makes a person such a faithful fool that no matter what you do to satisfy your desires, he doesn’t think you’ve done anything wrong.