Shakespeare Sonnet 144

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 colored ill. 4

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. 8

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. 12

Yet this shall I ne’er know, but live in doubt,

Till my bad angel fire my good one out.