Sonnet 58
b"
That god forbid that made me first your slave
I should in thought control your times of pleasure,
Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave,
Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
O, let me suffer (being at your beck)
Th' imprison'd absence of your liberty,
And patience, tame to sufferance, bide each check,
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
Your self to pardon of self-doing crime.
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0\\xa0Not blame your pleasure, be it ill or well.