Sonnet XX: 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 evilBy this good wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.
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