When calling by to see Chapman one afternoon Keats was surprised to find his friend in bed and looking forlorn. Various tablets whose packaging claimed they were good for the health were strewn around the room.
'What ails you, Chapman?'
'Difficult to say. I'd describe it as a sort of existential despair, though there must be a more exact term... '
Keats thought for a moment, 'Would taedium vitae fit the bill?'
'How about ennui?'
'No, more acute than that. Could you pass me those vitamin pills?'
'Nah, dem two over dere', replied Chapman, betraying a certain return to form.