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Sonnet 143
Shakespeare's Sonnets Translation 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 colored 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 turned fiend Suspect I may, but 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 of comfort and one of despair,
Which, like two spirits, tempt me:
They better angel is a very beautiful man,
And the worse spirit a evil-colored woman.
To seduce me to hell, my female evil
Tempts my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to become a devil,
Seducing his purity with her foul pride.
And whether my angel is turned into monster
I can only suspect, but not directly know;
But since both are absent from me and friends with each other,
I guess that the one angel is in another's hell.
Yet I will never know this, and must live in doubt,
Until my bad angel burns my good one.
