Sonnet 144
Two loves I have of comfort and
despair
«William Shakespeare»
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.
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