An evil spirit, your beauty, haunts me still,Wherewith, alas, I have been long possess'd,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 evilBy this good-wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.
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Idea XX
written byMichael Drayton
© Michael Drayton
