Bartholomew Griffin - "Work, work apace, you blessed sisters three" lyrics

Work, work apace, you blessed sisters three, In restless twining of my fatal thread. O let your nimble hands at once agree To weave it out and cut it off with speed. Then shall my vexed and tormented ghost Have quiet pa**age to the Elysian rest, And sweetly over d**h and fortune boast In everlasting triumphs with the blest. But ah, too well I know you have conspired A lingering d**h for him that loatheth life, As if with woes he never could be tired; For this you hide your all-dividing knife. One comfort yet the heavens have a**igned me, That I must die and leave my griefs behind me.