Hvge hosts of thoughts imbattled in my brest,
Are euer busied with intestine warres,
And like to Cadmus earth-borne troupes at iarres,
Haue spoil'd my soule of peace, themselues of rest.
Thus forc'd to reape such seed as I haue sowne,
I (hauing interest in this doubtfull strife)
Hope much, feare more, doubt most, vnhappie life.
What euer side preuaile, I'm still orethrowne:
O neither life nor death! ô both, but bad
Imparadiz'd, whiles in mine owne conceit,
My fancies straight againe imbroyle my state,
And in a moment make me glad and sad.
Thus neither yeelding quite to this nor that,
I liue, I die, I do I wot not what.