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 24. I Hear Some Say
2. Sonnet 48. Cupid, I Hate thee
3. Sonnet 37. Dear, why should You Command Me to My Rest
4. Sonnet 57. You Best Discern'd of my Mind's Inward Eyes
5. An Ode Written in the Peak

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