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.