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.
In plain English
Curse that heart of yours—it tortures me by wounding both me and my dearest friend. Isn't tormenting me alone enough? Why must you enslave him too, dragging him into the same captivity?
Your cruel gaze has stolen me from myself, and you've grabbed hold of him even harder. Now I'm abandoned by him, by myself, and by any hope you might release either of us. I'm triply trapped.
I'm locked in your cold grip, but I'm begging you: at least let my friend's heart go free in exchange for mine. Whoever keeps me prisoner, let me guard my friend in return. You can't treat us both so harshly. But you will anyway—because I'm already yours, completely, and everything I have belongs to you too.
