- Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
- For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
- Is’t not enough to torture me alone,
- But slave to slavery my sweet’st friend must be?
- Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
- And my next self thou harder hast engross’d:
- Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken;
- A torment thrice three-fold thus to be cross’d:
- Prison my heart in thy steel bosom’s ward,
- But then my friend’s heart let my poor heart bail;
- Whoe’er keeps me, let my heart be his guard;
- Thou canst not then use rigour in my jail:
- And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
- Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.