VII.
I am not sick, and yet I am not sound;
I eat and sleep, and yet, methinks, I thrive not.
I sport and laugh, and yet my griefs abound;
I am not dead, and yet, methinks, I live not.
"What uncouth cause hath these strange passions bred,
To make at once, sick, sound, alive, and dead?"
VIII.
Something I want; but what, I cannot say.
O, now I know! It is myself I want!