Josh

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But say I could repent and could obtain By act of grace my former state: how soon [95] Would height recall high thoughts, how soon unsay What feigned submission swore; ease would recant Vows made in pain as violent and void, For never can true reconcilement grow Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep, [100] Which would but lead me to a worse relapse And heavier fall.
Paradise Lost
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