That god forbid that made me first your slave...
Sonnet 58That god forbid that made me first your slave,
I should in thought control your times of pleasure, Or at your hand the account of hours to crave, Being your vassal, bound to stay your leisure! O, let me suffer, being at your beck, The imprison'd absence of your liberty; And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each cheque, Without accusing you of injury. Be where you list, your charter is so strong That you yourself may privilege your time To what you will; to you it doth belong Yourself to pardon of self-doing crime. I am to wait, though waiting so be hell; Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well. Listen to the recording!Free sample available for this sonnet! Click HERE
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May the same god that made me your slave forbid I should think of intruding my will onto your free time. Or to ask you what you’ve been doing, seeing as I’m your servant, and bound to do exactly as you wish. Let me bear the imprisonment that is your absence, and let tame patience endure each setback, without coming back at you with accusations. You can do what you want with your time, it’s yours: you’ve got the power to pardon crimes you yourself commit. All I can do is wait, even though it’s hell to wait. I can’t comment on your pastimes, whether they’re good or bad.