| TWO loves I have of comfort and despair, | |
| Which like two spirits do suggest me still; | |
| My better angel is a man, right fair, | |
| My 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 a saint to be a devil, | |
| Wooing his purity with her fair pride: | |
| And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend | |
| Suspect I may, yet not directly tell; | 10 |
| For being both to me, both to each friend, | |
| I guess one angel in another’s hell. | |
| The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt, | |
| Till my bad angel fire my good one out. |