- 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 colour’d ill.
- To win me soon to hell, my female evil,
- Tempteth my better angel from my side,
- And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
- Wooing his purity with her foul pride.
- And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend,
- Suspect I may, yet not directly tell;
- But being both from me, both to each friend,
- I guess one angel in another’s hell:
- Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,
- Till my bad angel fire my good one out.