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? (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? (Sonnet 133)
Him have I lost; thou hast both him and me; He pays the whole, and yet am I not free. (Sonnet 134)
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, Which, like two spirits, do suggest me still; The better angel is a man right fair, The worser spirit a woman colored ill. (Sonnet 144)