Then both our selves and Seed at once to free

Of new acceptance, hopeful to regaine

Our own begotten, and of our Loines to bring

In offices of Love, how we may lightn [ 960 ]

So Death shall be deceavd his glut, and with us two [ 990 ]

Let us seek Death, or he not found, supply

And with desire to languish without hope, [ 995 ]

And to our Seed (O hapless rｅad.９９cｓｗ.cｏmSeed!) derivd. [ 965 ]

By Death at last, and miserable it is

From Loves due Rites, Nuptial imbraces sweet,

Living or dying, from thee I will not hide

Childless thou art, Childless remaine:

Each others burden in our share of woe;

Since this days Death denounct, if ought I see,

Of many ways to die the shortest choosing, [ 1005 ]

That shew no https://read.99csw.comend but Death, and have the power,

But if thou judge it hard and difficult,

Each other, blamd enough elsewhere, but strive

Be forcd to satisfie his Ravnous Maw.

That after wretched Life must be at last [ 985 ]

With our own hands his Office on our selves;

A long days dying to augment our paine,

Destruction with destruction to destroy.

Adam, 九_九_藏_書by sad experiment I know

Found so erroneous, thence by just event

As in our evils, and of easier choice.

It lies, yet ere Conception to prevent

Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain

Into this cursed World a woful Race,

Why stand we longer shivering under feares,

But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame

What thoughts in my unquiet brest are risn, [ 975 ]reａｄ.9９ｃｓｗ.coｍ

Which must be born to certain woe, devourd [ 980 ]

With like desire, which would be miserie

Thy Love, the sole contentment of my heart

The Race unblest, to being yet unbegot.

Will prove no sudden, but a slow-pact evill,

To be to others cause of misery,

Restord by thee, vile as I am, to place

From what we fear for both, let us make short, [ 1000 ]

How little weread.99csw.comight my words with thee can finde,

Found so unfortunate; nevertheless, [ 970 ]

Tending to some relief of our extremes,

Before the present object languishing

Or end, though sharp and sad, yet tolerable,

Food for so foule a Monster, in thy power

If care of our descent perplex us most,

And torment less then none of what we dread,

To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replid.