"Why," says I, "it will put an end to a miserable life."
"Well," says William, "are you satisfied the next will be better?"
"No, no," says I; "much worse, to be sure."
"Why, then," says he, "shooting yourself is the devil's motion, no doubt;
for it is the devil of a reason, that, because thou art in an ill case,
therefore thou must put thyself into a worse."
This shocked my reason indeed. "Well, but," says I, "there is no bearing
the miserable condition I am in."
"Very well," says William; "but it seems there is some bearing a worse
condition; and so you will shoot yourself, that you may be past remedy?"
"I am past remedy already," says I.
"How do you know that?" says he.