Two loves I have, of comfort and despair, That 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 Tempteth my better angel from my side, And would corrupt my 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: 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.
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