Of smoky sighes, as breath and all were gone:
But euery thing hath end: so hee anone
Came to himselfe, when, with a sigh outbrayed,
With woefull chere, these woefull words hee sayed:
105.
“Ah, where am I, what thing, or whence is this?
Who reft my wits? or how doe I thus lye?
My lyms do quake, my thought agasted is,
Why sigh I so? or whereunto do I
Thus grovle[1654] on the grounde?” and by and by