Sonnet 58


  That god forbid, that made me first your slave,
  I should in thought control your times of pleasure,
  Or at your hand th' account of hours to crave,
  Being your vassal bound to stay your leisure.
  O let me suffer (being at your beck)
  Th' 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 your self may privilage your time
  To what you will, to you it doth belong,
  Your self to pardon of self-doing crime.
    I am to wait, though waiting so be hell,
    Not blame your pleasure be it ill or well.


facebook share button twitter share button google plus share button tumblr share button reddit share button email share button share on pinterest pinterest

Create a library and add your favorite stories. Get started by clicking the "Add" button.
Add Sonnet 58 to your own personal library.

Return to the William Shakespeare Home Page, or . . . Read the next poem; Sonnet 59

Anton Chekhov
Nathaniel Hawthorne
Susan Glaspell
Mark Twain
Edgar Allan Poe
Mary E. Wilkins Freeman
Herman Melville
Stephen Leacock
Kate Chopin
Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson