Sonet 68

I hope, I feare, resolu'd, and yet I doubt,
I'm cold as yce, and yet I burne as fire;
I wot not what, and yet I much desire,
And trembling too, am desperatly stout:
Though melancholious wonders I deuise,
And compasse much, yet nothing can embrace;
And walke ore all, yet stand still in one place,
And bound on th'earth, do soare aboue the skies:
I beg for life, and yet I bray for death,
And haue a mightie courage, yet dispaire;
I euer muse, yet am without all care,
And shout aloud, yet neuer straine my breath:
I change as oft as any wind can do,
Yet for all this am euer constant too.