William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Sonnet Lviii - Poem by William Shakespeare

That 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.


Comments about Sonnet Lviii by William Shakespeare

  • (4/4/2018 7:47:00 PM)


    Mhmm though now shall thrive beneath the head of awakening (Report) Reply

    0 person liked.
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  • Brian Jani (4/26/2014 10:39:00 AM)


    Awesome I like this poem, check mine out (Report) Reply

Read all 2 comments »



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Read poems about / on: god, time, sonnet



Poem Submitted: Monday, May 21, 2001



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