The Triple Alliance

My heart, her beauty, and Love,—I surely think those three
Among themselves a league to kill my joys did swear.
Now wherefore have they chosen out poor single me?
Ah, Love, of my distresses give her, too, a share!
Portion them so that thoughts shall make her colour flare.
Shall she be heartsick too? Nay, 'twere no just decree.
Wroth she well might be,
Since command of hers ne'er brought me any care.