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Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
   That like two spirits do suggest me still;
My better angel is a man right fair,
   My worser spirit a woman colour’d 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 fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn’d fiend.
   Suspect I may, yet not directly tell:
For being both to me, both to each friend.
   I guess one angel in another’s hell:
The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt,
   Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

                 -The Passionate Pilgrim II