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[verse 17] Then lothd I life, all life bred griefe, and did the mind torment,
[verse 18] My owne workes were vnpleasing then, possest by one vnment.
17.
Therefore I hated life: for the worke that is wrought vn∣der the sunne is grieuous vnto me: for all is vanitie & vexa∣tion of the Spirit.
The thought whereof made me the world to hate,
And euery circumstance of life to blame,
The day of birth, as day of cursed fate,
The length of life, as heape of woe and shame,
The dayly looke for death, as rotten frame
Of natures weakest building, earth doth beare,
Bred vp and nourished, with care and feare.
Conceiu'd in sinne, brought into world with paine,
With iust laments bewayling future case,
Who impotent, doth hopelesse still remaine,
(If pitie in the parents had not place,
Or foster mothers did him not embrace)
Whose youth sharpe tutors, age the lawes restraine,
Whose vexed soule still carkes and cares in vaine.
18.
I hated also all my labor, wher∣in I had trauel∣led vnder the Sunne, which I shall leaue to the man that shall be after me.
Yea, though my selfe was free from sundry things,
By reason of the greatnesse of my state,
With which the meaner sort full often wrings,
(As want, and suffering stroke of mighties hate)
Yet I my cares had in an other rate,
And far more forcible in me they were,
For prosperous states doe worst afflictions beare.
As feare of chaunge, care of the common good,
Desire to eternize my name on earth:
Yet nothing more (me thought) my ioy withstood,
Then that I traueld for an others mirth,
For whom, my fruits were gathred ere his birth,
Which made me all my workes of most desert
Hate and disdaine, euen from the very heart.