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Sonnet 57by William ShakespeareBeing your slave, what should I do but tendUpon 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 hourWhilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you,Nor think the bitterness of absence sourWhen you have bid your servant once adieu;Nor dare I question with my jealous thoughtWhere you may be, or your affairs suppose,But like a sad slave, stay and think of noughtSave where you are how happy you make those! So true a fool is love, that in your will (Though you do any thing) he thinks no ill.ComprehensionThis poem is like many other Renaissance poems in its a.irrational purposec.rough humorb.emphasis on loved.mood of mourning