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, but 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.
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