"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.