XXV.
O that I were sly Proteus! for to take On me that form which most I like or wish: Then would I change myself unto the shape Of that thy little whelp, thy joy and bliss. Into that little worm thou so dost like; And dallying, play'st with him both day and night. Those savoury smacks, those busses, sweet which be, Which thou to him dost give, should all be mine: And I would make my heart to leap for glee; Whilst I did lick that bosom fair of thine. But since I to despair of this am brought: My wish shall Proteus be; thy dog, my thought!
XXVI.
"SAy, gentle friend, tell me in courtesy, Before what was I? and what am I now? A senseless Shadow, or a Body, I?" "Neither of both. Mark, and I'll tell thee how. No Body now: for that, by proud disdain Of scornful She, dislived was. Shadow none; For that did underground go with the same, Unwilling it should wander all alone." "What am I then?" "Even one that doth not know What now he is: or what he was, can show."
XXVII.