Sonnet 133

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 threefold 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 rigor in my gaol.

And yet thou wilt, for I, being pent in thee,

Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.

And now my friend, whom I went on about,

Has also fallen under the sway of your charm.

It was sad enough to feel myself hurt,

But now you bring him into harm.

I’ve lost myself in you and your cruelty,

And he, more believing, is even more lost,

So now I have neither you, him, nor me,

Three times star and body crossed.

Take me as prisoner, my heart in your jail,

But let me for that be my lover’s guard.

Take my suffering as my friend’s bail.

My own plight, then, will not feel so hard.

Or else it will. Inside you whole,

My heart and all of me will be in your control.