Sonet 22
An euill spirit your beauty haunts me still, Where-with (alas) I haue been long possest, Which ceaseth not to tempt me vnto ill, Nor giues me once but one pore minutes rest. In me it speakes, whether I sleepe or wake, And when by meanes to driue it out I try, With greater torments then it me doth take, And tortures me in most extreamity. Before my face, it layes all my dispaires, And hasts me on vnto a suddaine death; Now tempting me, to drown my selfe in teares, And then in sighing to giue vp my breath: Thus am I still prouok'd to euery euill, By this good wicked spirit, sweet Angel deuill.
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"An euill spirit your beauty haunts me still,..."
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