| 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 | 5 |
| 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; | 10 |
| 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. |