Sonnet #133

Beshrew th@ heart th@ makes my heart 2 groan
4 th@ deep wound it gives my friend & me;
Is't nt enough 2 torture me alone,
bt slave 2 slavery my sweet'st friend must be?
Me frm my self thy cruel i hath taken,
& my next self thou harder hast engrossed,
Of him, my self, & thee I am 4saken,
A torment thrice three-fold thus 2 b crossed:
Prison my heart in thy steel bosomz ward,
bt then my friendz heart let my poor heart bail,
Whoe'er keeps me, let my heart b his guard,
Thou canst nt then use rigour in my gaol.
& yet thou wilt, 4 I being pent in thee,
Per4ce am thine & all th@ is in me.
See Original Sonnet

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

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