From here we passed to a vast dungeon, by far the filthiest that I had seen yet, and the most replete with toads, adders, and stench. "This," said my guide, "is the place of the men who expect to get to heaven because they have no ill intentions, that is, for being neither good nor bad." Next to this pool of ill savour, I beheld a place where a vast crowd were sitting, and without any thing visible to torment them, groaning more piteously than any that I had hitherto heard in Hell. "Mercy upon us," said I, "what causes these people to complain more than the rest, when they have neither torture nor devil near them?" "O," said the angel, "the less torment they have without, the more they have within. These are refractory heretics, atheists, antichristians, worldly- wise ones, abjurers of the faith, persecutors of the church, and an infinity of such like wretches, who are abandoned entirely to the punishment of conscience, more tormenting than flame or devil, which domineers over them ceaselessly and without restraint. 'I will never permit myself any more,' says she, 'to be drowned in ale, nor to be blinded by bribes, nor deafened by music and company, nor lulled nor confounded by careless listlessness; for now I _will_ be listened to, and never shall the clack of the hated truth cease in your ears.' Longing is ever raging within the wretch for the happiness which he has lost; memory is ever reproaching him by saying how easy it was to be obtained, and the understanding showing him the magnitude of his loss, and the certainty that nothing is now to be obtained, but indescribable gnawing for ever and ever. So with these three instruments--namely longing, memory, and understanding--conscience is tearing the lost one, in a manner far worse than all the devils in Hell could tear him with their claws."