Poem by Michael Drayton

Sonnet 20. An Evil Spirit

An evil spirit, your beauty haunts me still,
Wherewith, alas, I have been long possest,
Which ceaseth not to tempt me to each ill,
Nor gives me once but one poor minute's rest;
In me it speaks, whether I sleep or wake,
And when by means to drive it out I try,
With greater torments then it me doth take,
And tortures me in most extremity;
Before my face it lays down my despairs,
And hastes me on unto a sudden death,
Now tempting me to drown myself in tears,
And then in sighing to give up my breath.
    Thus am I still provok'd to every evil 
    By this good wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.

1. Sonnet 57. You Best Discern'd of my Mind's Inward Eyes
2. Sonnet 47. In Pride of Wit
3. Sonnet 38. Sitting Alone, Love
4. Sonnet 55. My Fair
5. Sonnet 25. O Why should Nature Niggardly Restrain

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