William Shakespeare – Sonnet 144


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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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