Being your slave, what can I do but respond to the hours and calls of your desire? I have no time for myself, No jobs to do, until you ask me. Nor do I dare rebuke the endless hour of the world, While I, my sovereign, follow your hours, Nor do I think that the loneliness of absence is bitter, After dismissing your servant from your service; Nor do I dare to question with my jealousy Where thou wilt be, or imagine what thou dost do, But, like a sad slave, I sit and think not, Saved, where thou art, and how happy thou makest all: Then, what a fool is love, which, under your yoke (Although you do nothing), no evil shall haunt him. Sonnet 57 - Shakespeare