Sonnet 58

Among Shakespeare’s 154 sonnets, Sonnet 58 stands out as a portrait of quiet suffering—a study of love transformed into servitude.

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 imprisoned 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

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.