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 evil 
By this good wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.

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