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LVII



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.

 	--William Shakespeare

C



Where art thou Muse that thou forget\'st so long,

To speak of that which gives thee all thy might?

Spend\'st thou thy fury on some worthless song,

Darkening thy power to lend base subjects light?

Return forgetful Muse, and straight redeem,

In gentle numbers time so idly spent;

Sing to the ear that doth thy lays esteem

And gives thy pen both skill and argument.

Rise, resty Muse, my love\'s sweet face survey,

If Time have any wrinkle graven there;

If any, be a satire to decay,

And make time\'s spoils despised every where.

  Give my love fame faster than Time wastes life,

  So thou prevent\'st his scythe and crooked knife.

 	--William Shakespeare

Recession is when a neighbor loses his job. Depression is when you lose
yours.
Ronald Reagan

An election is coming. Universal peace is declared and the foxes have a sincere interest in prolonging the lives of the
poultry.
T. S. Eliot