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 coloured 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 turnd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell,
But being both from me both to each friend,
I guess one angel in anothers hell.
   Yet this shall I neer know, but live in doubt,
   Till my bad angel fire my good one out.
Sonnet 144: Two loves I have of comfort and despair