O miserable of happie! is this the end [ 720 ]

Of this new glorious World, and mee so late

The Glory of that Glory, who now becom

Accurst of blessed, hide me from the face

Of God, whom to behold was then my highth

Of happiness: yet well, if here would end [ 725 ]

The miserie, I deservd it, and would beare

My own deservings; but this will not serve;

All that I eat or drink, or shall beget,

Is propagated curse. O voice once heard

Delightfully, Encrease and multiply, [ 730 ]

Now death to hear! for what can I encrease

Or multiplie, but curses on my head?

Who of all Ages to succeed, but feeling

The evil on him brought by me, will curse

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