Poem by William Shakespeare

Sonnet 144. Two loves I have of comfort and despair

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 turned fiend,
Suspect I may, yet 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.

1. The Church at Stratford
2. From the Rape of Lucrece
3. How Like A Winter Hath My Absence Been
4. Silvia
5. It Was a Lover and His Lass

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