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this. I trust in my Creator for this, that He has not given you this power, and that you have not from Him this authority, and that this is by no means just. But you tell me that God has instructed you—chosen you for this! but I know not this; rather do I know that I have been deprived of all my comfort, of all my pleasure, of all good merriment; to me is bequeathed poverty and eternal grief; my name is marked out and written down in the doleful register of the longing and anxious ones until I die. Now indeed there is truly discord between me and the beloved and adored one; now indeed there is a quarrel worse than all other quarrels and discords. This indeed may be called truly discord and anger, which never again will change to peace. Oh, that I should ever have known what wrath between two lovers is. Alas and again alas, and woe to you, wicked, infamous Misfortune! Oh, wicked Misfortune, now, indeed, through your evil anger all my happiness, and with it my youth, is at an end. Why then am I still alive? what can I rejoice over? in what can I find pleasure? where can I seek refuge in this my great need? What shall I now love, what can I love now that everything is lost to me. In what shall I now find pleasure, what shall render me merry and happy, when I no longer love her through whom everything appeared lovable to me. Little now will be my joy, for little mercy shall I find. . . . And for what purpose have you endeavoured to do this, shameful, wicked, false Misfortune? Alas, alas! Woe, ever woe to thee. Gone is all my grace, gone are all my many qualities. O Misfortune, to whom shall I now go for counsel in this my hateful adversity? to whom shall I complain of my loss in this my depression and sorrow? I have