The Sonnets CXXXIII - Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
By William Shakespeare
Beshrew that heart that makes my heart to groan
For that deep wound it gives my friend and me!
Ist not enough to torture me alone,
But slave to slavery my sweetst friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next self thou harder hast engrossd:
Of him, myself, and thee I am forsaken;
A torment thrice three-fold thus to be crossd:
Prison my heart in thy steel bosoms ward,
But then my friends heart let my poor heart bail;
Whoeer 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.