Shakespeare's 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 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 foul pride.And whether that my angel be turn’d 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.

I have two loves, one bringing comfort, the other despair, who constantly influence me like two spirits. The better angel is a very handsome man; the worse spirit is a dark-complexioned woman. To send me quickly to hell, my female devil tempts my better angel away from me. She wants to turn my saint into a devil, seducing his purity with her filthy pride. I may suspect that my angel has become a devil, but I cannot know for certain. Since both are away from me and friendly with each other, I suspect one angel is inside the other's sexual hell. Yet I will never know, but must live in doubt until my bad angel burns my good one out.