Page:Shakespeare Collection of Poems.djvu/148

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The Passionate Pilgrime.
Two Loves I have, of Comfort and Despaire,
That like two Spirits do suggest me still:
My better Angell is a Man (right faire)
My worser spirite a woman (colour'd ill.)
To winne me soone 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 faire pride.
And whether that my Angel be turnde feend,
Suspect I may (yet not directly tell)
For being both to me; both to each friend,
I guesse one Angel in anothers hell:
The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

Did not the heavenly Rhetoricke of thine eye,
'Gainst whom the world could not hold argument,
Perswade my heart to this false perjurie:
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore: But I will prove
Thou being a Goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love,
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapor is;
Then thou fair Sun, that on this earth doth shine,
Exhale this vapor vow, in thee it is:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what foole is not so wise
To breake an Oath, to win a Paradise?

Sweet