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 evil
 By this good-wicked spirit, sweet angel-devil.