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 flave to flavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Me from myself thy cruel eye hath taken,
And my next felf thou harder haft engrossed:
Of him, myself, and thee, I am forsaken;
A torment thrice threefold thus to be croffed.
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 gaol:
And yet thou wilt; for I, being pent in thee,
Perforce am thine, and all that is in me.
So, now I have confess'd that he is thine,
And I myself am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I'll forfeit, fo that other mine
Thou wilt restore, to be my comfort still:
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free.
For thou art covetous and he is kind;
He learn'd but furety-like to write for me,
Under that bond that him as fast doth bind.
The ftatute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that put'st forth all to use,
And fue a friend came debtor for my fake;
So him I lofe through my unkind abuse.
Him have I loft; thou haft both him and me:
the whole, and yet am I not free.
Whoever hath her wish, thou haft thy Will,
And Will to boot, and Will in overplus ;
More than enough am I that vex thee still,
To thy fweet will making addition thus.
Wilt thou, whose will is large and spacious,
Not once vouchsafe to hide my will in thine?
Shall will in others seem right gracious,
And in my will no fair acceptance shine?
The fea, all water, yet receives rain still,
And in abundance addeth to his store;
So thou, being rich in Will, add to thy Will
One will of mine, to make thy large Will more.
Let no unkind, no fair beseechers kill;
Think all but one, and me in that one Will.
If thy foul check thee that I come so near,
Swear to thy blind foul that I was thy Will,
And will, thy foul knows, is admitted there;
Thus far for love, my love-fuit, sweet, fulfil.
Will will fulfil the treasure of thy love,
Ay, fill it full with wills, and my will one.
In things of great receipt with ease we prove
Among a number one is reckon'd none:
Then in the number let me pass untold,
Though in thy ftore's account I one must be;
For nothing hold me, so it please thee hold
That nothing me, a fomething fweet to thee:
Make but my name thy love, and love that still,
And then thou lovest me, for my name is Will.
Thou blind fool, Love, what doft thou to mine eyes,
That they behold, and fee not what they fee?
They know what beauty is, see where it lies,
Yet what the best is take the worst to be.
If eyes, corrupt by over-partial looks,
Be anchor'd in the bay where all men ride,
Why of eyes' falsehood hast thou forged hooks,
Whereto the judgement of my heart is tied?
Why should my heart think that a several plot
Which my heart knows the wide world's common
Or mine eyes feeing this, say this is not, [place?
To put fair truth upon fo foul a face?
In things right true my heart and eyes have erred,
And to this false plague are they now transferred.
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