Into the upper world it went,

Such guilt, such wickedness,

Such irreligion did increase,

That the few good who did survive,

Were angry with the Plague for suffring them to live,

More for the living than the dead did grieve:

Some robb’d the very dead,

Though sure to be infected ere they fled,

Though in the very Air sure to be punished.

Some nor the shrines nor temples spar’d,