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.

As your humble servant, I am ever at your beck and call, tending to your every need and desire. My very existence is dedicated to fulfilling your wishes and ensuring that your precious time is not squandered. I have no agenda of my own, no purpose other than to serve you whenever you so require. The passage of time holds no significance for me except as it aligns with your desires, and the world itself seems to halt at your command.

The bitter taste of absence is but a fleeting concern, for my thoughts are consumed by the memory of your presence and the anticipation of your return. My loyalty knows no bounds, as I dare not question your whereabouts or entertain any jealous thoughts. Rather, I resign myself to a solemn state, occupied only by thoughts of your well-being and the joy you bring to others.

Such is the nature of love, to be a willing and devoted servant to your will. No matter the actions you choose to take, I can only see the purity of your intentions and hold no ill thoughts against you.