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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.
enciS I’m ouyr laesv, thaw sele doulhs I do utb tawi on hte urosh, nda orf het esmit nhwe ouy’ll tnwa me? I don’t vhea yna laelubav itme to dneps, or yan vscereis to do, tiunl oyu dene me. oNr do I aerd nocapilm btuoa owh innogzglaiy nolg teh hrosu are hweil I htacw het lcock fro ouy, my kngi, or who rteibt yoru saebcne is etarf yuo’ve sida oedbogy to oyur snavert. orN do I drae ask ojualse squetsino utboa eehrw you higtm be, or ctpsueale btuao rouy asfirfa, utb ielk a sad svela I sti iltls dan nkhit taubo nntiogh eetxcp owh phayp ouy’re kigmna meehrvwo oyu’re ihtw. evLo asekm a nroeps cshu a lthffaiu oolf htat no tmaetr whta you do to sytsfia your eirdsse, he sneod’t knith oyu’ve odne nthaying rowgn.

Original Text

Modern Text

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.
enciS I’m ouyr laesv, thaw sele doulhs I do utb tawi on hte urosh, nda orf het esmit nhwe ouy’ll tnwa me? I don’t vhea yna laelubav itme to dneps, or yan vscereis to do, tiunl oyu dene me. oNr do I aerd nocapilm btuoa owh innogzglaiy nolg teh hrosu are hweil I htacw het lcock fro ouy, my kngi, or who rteibt yoru saebcne is etarf yuo’ve sida oedbogy to oyur snavert. orN do I drae ask ojualse squetsino utboa eehrw you higtm be, or ctpsueale btuao rouy asfirfa, utb ielk a sad svela I sti iltls dan nkhit taubo nntiogh eetxcp owh phayp ouy’re kigmna meehrvwo oyu’re ihtw. evLo asekm a nroeps cshu a lthffaiu oolf htat no tmaetr whta you do to sytsfia your eirdsse, he sneod’t knith oyu’ve odne nthaying rowgn.

Popular pages: Shakespeare’s Sonnets